


The Dictator, the Journalist, and the Road to Democracy

by KeysmashJones



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Air Nomad Genocide (Avatar), Air Nomads (Avatar), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Alternate Universe - Politics, Bending (Avatar), Earth Kingdom (Avatar), Elderly Aang, F/M, Fire Nation (Avatar), Fire Nation Royal Family, Journalism, Language Barrier, Long, Modern Era, Northern Water Tribe, OCs but they are mostly supporting characters, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Political, Political Drama, Politics, Slow Burn, Southern Water Tribe, The Earth Kingdom Has A Savior Complex, The Fire Nation Is A Crazy Dictatorship, They're real adults guys, Worldbuilding, Zutara, podcasts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2020-12-07 17:58:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 95,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20980049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeysmashJones/pseuds/KeysmashJones
Summary: Modern AU- The Fire Nation is dictatorship, which falls to the Earth Kingdom in a coup. Zuko, having spend half his life locked away in his chambers, is pulled from isolation and placed on the throne. Meanwhile Katara, a promising young journalist specializing in international politics, is sent to interview him. Their lives (and the entire world) will change as a result.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! So in this AU, the gaang are all in their mid to late twenties (except Aang, but don't worry about that right now). The Fire Nation is a modern dictatorship inspired by regimes like North Korea or Chauchesku's Romania. Comments and Kudos always welcome!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 5/14/20: I've decided to occasionally post artwork related to this fic on my deviantart page, which you can see here https://www.deviantart.com/keysmashjones Fair spoiler warning; I will sometimes post drawings that reference future chapters. 
> 
> If you're looking for some art that is spoiler-free, check out these two: 
> 
> The Dictator https://www.deviantart.com/keysmashjones/art/The-Dictator-841769410
> 
> And the Journalist https://www.deviantart.com/keysmashjones/art/The-Journalist-841769738

There it was again. That distant knocking. Or perhaps it was footsteps, Zuko couldn’t be sure. They weren’t the kind of footsteps he was used to hearing around the palace, not the orderly clacking of people going about their normal duties. No, these were sporadic and fast, and it was the middle of the night.

He knew something was wrong, and the footsteps hadn’t been the first clue. The alarm went off about a half an hour ago. When it died, nearly as quickly as it had come on, its final note was long, low, and strangled, but that alone didn’t scare him. The alarm had gone off before, for normal drills or tests, and the occasional grease fire in the palace kitchen that the cooks were too slow to quell. Typically a staff member would arrive within minutes to inform him of the situation and lead him to a separate location if necessary. They would assure him that everything would be all right, because historically, everything always was. This time no one came.

_ Maybe they’ve finally forgotten about me _, he wondered.

It wouldn’t be absurd. For half his life he’d been cloistered away in his quarters, allowed visits only by his tutors, personal staff, and immediate family. (The latter party visited only when it suited them, and that was only ever infrequently). Yet, usually someone came for him. Maybe this time he simply wasn’t important enough to be on anyone’s mind. He tended to take up very little space.

At once his bedroom door was thrown unceremoniously open, by whom, he couldn’t make out in the dark. The figure stayed anonymous until she stepped forward and he heard her familiar voice. It was his nanny, Preeda. She was babbling, too fast for him to follow. Something about a break-in. Something about men with guns. Something about his father. She looked at him with wild, pleading eyes. He couldn’t see his own face, but he was sure his expression mirrored hers.

A number of male voices sounded down the hallway, and seconds later appeared the soldiers they belonged to. There were three of them. They were tall and muscular, and all three clad in Earth Army greens. Preeda whirled around and directed her frantic ramblings at them. She spoke Fire Tongue, of course. As far as Zuko was aware, Preeda didn’t know any Earth Tongue. They addressed her with their foreign words, gruff and authoritative, but she didn’t heed them. Could Zuko translate what they were telling her? He wasn’t sure. He felt a headache forming at the base of his skull. He felt like he was going to be sick.

One of the soldiers drew his gun at Preeda and Zuko’s hackles raised, but he was too far from her, and the men were too swift... The butt of the soldier’s gun collided with her head and she fell to the floor in a soft heap. They kicked her aside and turned to Zuko. He was suddenly too aware that he wore only pajamas and that he sat upright in his bed with the covers pulled around his body like armor. They roughly pulled him from his bed and barked orders at him in broken Fire Tongue. Their words sounded too square and too heavy. They didn’t flicker across their tongues like flames the way they were supposed to. They probably only knew these few phrases, and had probably learned them just for this purpose. They made their way out of the chamber, one soldier dragging each of Zuko’s arms. The third trailed a few paces behind and kept something cold and metallic pressed against Zuko’s head. They made him step over Preeda’s limp form on the way out. They gave him a kick when he tried to get one last look at her.

He wanted information more than anything else. Every time he’d tried to ask a question on the way to his cell he was silenced. (Perhaps “cell” was a strong word. He was kept in an empty, windowless conference room that had long since fallen out of use). The soldier who brought him a meal in what he thought was the morning had only glared at him with narrow jade-colored eyes. No one else had visited him since. He felt like he’d been locked away for at least a day, maybe more, but he had no real way of knowing. He was still in the palace, of that he was certain at least. It should have been comforting that he hadn’t been shoved in a car and taken wherever his kidnappers fancied, but it wasn’t. It was humiliating to be held prisoner in his family’s palace, and furthermore, it seemed to suggest that the entire Caldera had fallen to foreign powers. Perhaps that was why he didn’t try to escape. He knew there was nowhere to go.

He heard people outside his room sometimes. Soldiers, probably. Their voices faded in and out of range as they moved around the corridor. This time the voices hovered nearby, and the jingling of keys revealed that they were finally ready for him. Ready for what, exactly, he still didn’t know. But it was something.

He locked eyes with the soldier who held the door ajar as several others filed inside. The door clicked shut behind them, and one earthbent a rectangular table and stools in the center of the floor, cracking the patterned tile in the process. Perhaps he was to be interrogated. Obviously whatever intelligence they gathered was limited, or else they would know not to waste their time on him. No one ever told him anything. One of them gestured to the table. Zuko rose cautiously and took a seat, never taking his eyes off his captors. They didn’t sit across from him. Instead they bickered privately for several minutes. Zuko stared into the shattered tile as he tried to recall memories of his language lessons. He knew Earth Tongue from books, mostly, and outdated ones at that. He was largely self-taught and he was sure his skills reflected it. But if he could just pick up even fragments of their conversation...

_ Are you sure... _ something unintelligible... something about wasted time... _ wrong man? _

Another, a woman, made her reply. He didn’t pick up most of it, but noticed she shrugged when she spoke. _ We can’t learn until we attempt? _ No. _ We can’t know until we try? _ That had to be it. They wanted to know if they had the right hostage. Well, that depended on who they thought he was. The outside world hadn’t heard of him; his father had made certain of that. They probably thought he’d died all those years ago, if they even knew he existed to begin with. Maybe they thought he was his father. Or perhaps they thought Lu Ten was alive, and that they’d managed to capture him. They would probably be disappointed to learn they had only captured a useless excuse for a prince that no one had ever heard of. He didn’t know anything, he was never allowed to participate in politics or war, and he didn’t stand to inherit the throne. They would probably just kill him when they discovered their error.

Then he heard his name. It was buried in their cacophonous, guttural Earth Tongue sentences, but he was sure he heard it. _ Prince Zuko _. They chattered on after Zuko had stopped listening. He’d made his choice.

“You have the right man.”

The room fell silent. Four pairs of eyes blinked cluelessly at him. He must have sounded strange to them, as strange as they sounded to him. After years of disuse, and never having attained fluency to begin with, his words must’ve been malformed. But, evidently, they did their job. He felt empowered to speak again.

“You are seeking Prince Zuko, yes? I am him.”

Plainly they hadn’t expected him to understand their language, let alone speak it. It left them dumbstruck. The first of the soldiers to recover, a tall, bulky man, was the one who rounded on him. He placed his sturdy fists on either end of the table and towered over Zuko.

“Well, Prince Zuko, I bet you think you’re clever, don’t you? Should I just send my translator home then?” He sneered. Zuko only understood about half of that, but he knew when someone was jeering at him.

He turned his attention to the woman, whom he’d identified as the translator.

“What is going to happen to me?” He asked, returning to the safety of his native language.

“Don’t look at her, look at me!” The brawny soldier spat, gripping Zuko by the chin and angling his face away from the translator. Zuko said nothing. He only returned the soldier’s mean gaze.

The soldiers talked amongst themselves again, and Zuko was too exhausted to listen in. He felt his headache returning. Whatever they were concerned about, they must have resolved it. The beefy soldier released his grip on Zuko’s face and took a seat at the table. The translator woman joined him. The other two remained posted in the back, their large machine guns poised in their hands.

When the soldier spoke again, he was no less menacing, but he was a good deal calmer. It was some kind of rehearsed speech. A few beats later, the translator started in. Zuko chose to listen only to her, as it hurt his head to try to grapple with them both. But he kept his eyes trained on the large soldier the entire time.

It turned out Zuko was being given a choice. At least, that’s how they phrased it, but it wasn’t a choice really. The alternative was that they would kill him, as they already had done to his father and uncle. He would be spared under the condition that he would be coronated as soon as possible, and then use his powers as fire lord to enact the will of the Earth Kingdom government in the Fire Nation. Of course he said yes. What else could he say?

They made him repeat it all back to them.

“You will do as we say.”

“I will do as you say.”

“You take order from us now.”

“I take orders from you now.”

“You will not attempt to escape, resist, or undermine us.”

“I will not attempt to escape, resist, or undermine you.”

He meant it all, he supposed. It’s not like there was any other choice. The soldiers turned to leave. There was no telling how long he would be alone again.

“One more thing?” Zuko asked. They faced him, suspicious.

“You said my father and my uncle are dead. Where is my sister?”

His question was fed through the translator, and an answer was regurgitated.

“You will find out, but only if you cooperate.”

They left before he had a chance to ask about Preeda.

He used to dream of his coronation day when he was a kid, before he was disgraced and locked away. In his dreams he was regal and commanding, and he wasn’t anybody’s puppet.

\-----

Katara decided it would be in her best interest to work through lunch that day. Her head was throbbing and she resolved that the best thing for her would be to get home early, tuck herself into bed, and treat herself to a long-night's sleep. Until then, she had work to do. She slid the cursor over to her email and hit refresh yet again. She was currently waiting on an audio file that her dad promised to send her for her podcast this week. When they spoke on the phone the day prior she reiterated to him that she had an upcoming deadline for the episode and he assured her that she would get it first thing in the morning. She should have known that Hakoda was notoriously late for most things.

She had assumed he would be timely because this was an important episode for him. Apparently not. The focus of this week’s _ International Hour _ was the Southern Water Tribe’s independence movement. It made sense to have the chief’s input even if he hadn’t declared his stance on the issue yet. Hakoda had begged for her to run a segment on the Southern Tribe ever since she began at the Earth Kingdom Public Radio, and she finally relented. Yet when he found out the topic she wanted to cover, she noticed him dragging his feet. On a personal basis, she disagreed with the Northern Tribe overpowering its sister tribe and she just assumed that her father agreed with her, even if he couldn’t say it. 

She heard the soft ding of an email coming in. _ Finally. _ Without missing a beat, she put on her headphones, clicked on the audio file, and hit play. 

The file was a mess. After two beats of static, she heard what she assumed was the muffled voice of her father. The audio crackled, and she could hear her father moving about. The file was definitely recorded on his smartphone, as it was nothing like the smooth audio that came from the equipment in the office. To make matters worse, he clearly had his fingers over the speaker for the entirety of the recording. The mumbled words of her father dragged on for minutes. She listened, hoping that he might have noticed his mistake, or at the very least, readjusted his hand at some point in the recording. No such luck. He guffawed as if he said something funny, started to talk again, and then without warning, the audio cut off.

She knew the file would be rough. This was her dad she was talking about. She had hoped that it would be at least in good enough condition that she could pawn it off onto an office intern and they could clean up the inevitable background noise. But this—this was unusable. They were going to miss the deadline to post this episode, there was no way around it. 

It looked like her headache was not going away anytime soon. She needed a break from her computer anyway. She got up from her chair and headed to the break room for some Advil.

The office was inordinately quiet for the usual lunch time rush. The interns huddled around one of the tables, eyes glued to their phones— that wasn’t really new, she supposed— but looking around, it was what almost everyone was doing. She edged past the silent group and took her medicine from the cabinet. 

Cheng, her boss, stuck his head out of his office. “Hey Katara, can you come here for a moment?” 

“Sure, yeah, one second.” She responded as she poured herself another cup of tea to take with her.

“Now, please?” Katara looked up in surprise. Cheng was normally a laid-back type. She considered him more of a friend than a boss, honestly. This sort of urgency was so unlike him. She flipped through her mind for a reason why he might be upset. There was no way he already knew about the failed audio file, but even if he did, it didn’t warrant this kind of a reaction. 

She maneuvered around the group staring at their devices, and made her way into the conference room. She sat her tea down on the table and looked up at the paused TV screen. Pictured was a young man dressed in Fire Nation finery. He looked as if he was on the verge of tears. Underneath his image was a banner that read: “Fire Nation falls to the Earth Kingdom” 

Yeah. She was definitely not going home early.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout of the coup continues.

By the time Katara got home that night, every social media app she had and every news channel was playing it on repeat. Cheng had sent it to her after their meeting. So had Sokka, and Suki, and her dad. Still, she had a hard time believing what was in front of her.

On the grainy screen was a terrified-looking young man, not much older than she was, reciting a speech in thickly accented Earth Tongue. He talked of peace. He talked of reparations. He talked of morality and diplomacy. The speech was clearly written by someone else and had been shoved into his hands not more than a few hours before this video was taken. He stuttered and consulted his notes more often than he should. The poor guy had no idea what he was doing.

Truthfully, she hadn’t even known that Fire Lord Ozai had a son. She knew he had a daughter, rumored to have a vicious temperament. He also had a wife, once, but she disappeared over a decade ago. No one knew what had happened to her. He had an older brother, who, for whatever reason, abdicated the throne. He also had a nephew who died in battle years ago. It was hardly a complete picture, and Katara knew more than the average Earth Kingdom citizen. As a political correspondent, it was her duty to stay informed. But it was hard. The Fire Nation was so isolated, and so little information made its way in or out. Ninety percent of what made its way to the Earth Kingdom was probably propaganda, and she had to take that into account. Even still, never had she even heard whispers nor rumors that Fire Lord Ozai had a secret son.

The only thing more shocking than the frightened young man in the video was what he was saying. He promised an end to the war. It was unthinkable. Generations as far back as Katara’s grandparents had grown up with the war, and to think it was all just suddenly over… News outlets had already given it a name: the Hundred Year War. It was a name that only made sense if the war really did come to an end this year. No sooner, no later. Before today, it had just been “the war.”

There was no question about it; this took precedence over the Southern Water Tribe issue. The episode was scrapped and she had stayed at work far past sunset, trying to find all the details she could about the breaking news. The mainstream media didn’t know all the details, of course, and some of the finer points were still disputed, but she could fill in the gaps well enough. A special operations force had stormed the Fire Nation royal palace. Fire Lord Ozai was killed, along with his brother Iroh. Princess Azula was taken hostage, and would await international trial for her war crimes. Zuko (that was his name, apparently) had inherited his father’s throne. Supposedly the Earth Kingdom was endorsing him, and that could only mean that he was coerced. His coronation, his surrender, his odd little speech that was currently going viral, none of it was his idea. If he did anything of his own accord, he would most likely be killed along with his father.

She looked once more at the video. Fire Lord Zuko’s golden crown glinted in the sunlight as he shifted his gaze to and from his notes. He stood slightly stooped over, as if the crown was too heavy for him.

She glanced at her phone. Practically everyone she knew was trying to get a hold of her at once. It was late, but that didn’t stop news from breaking. The Earth Kingdom people responded to the news enthusiastically. They had reason to be proud of their nation’s role in taking down the foreign threat. People wanted to celebrate and most of it was harmless fun. Sokka and Suki took the triplets down to the Firelight Fountain for a celebratory picnic. Suki texted her a picture of the boys playing in the water as proof. Her nephews had no idea what was going on. They were young and unaware of how much had changed that day. The guarantee of a bright future for her brother’s family lifted a burden off her shoulders that she didn’t even realize was there. She looked at the picture of the boys and their toothless smiles once more. Of course there was reason to celebrate. 

Naturally, some people took the news of the Earth Kingdom victory too far. At least, that's what Katara thought. Her newsfeed informed her of the riots breaking out downtown. Her treacherous drive home from work that night had verified that. People were taking to the streets to demonstrate their patriotism, drinking boisterously, and blocking traffic. A man with splattered red paint over his right eye walked right in front of her car and drunkenly leered at her. Passerbys held up posters that poked fun at the Fire Nation defeat, calling their citizens dirty “ash-benders,” among other slurs. With the way the riot downtown was heading, she worried for the safety of the small population of Fire Nation refugees living in central Ba Sing Se. It was no secret that the Earth Kingdom had offered amnesty and citizenship to any Fire Nation individual who could offer them intelligence on the Fire Nation. Very few took them up on the offer. Still though, Katara hoped they would have the insight to stay indoors until the celebrations die out. She took a mental note to bring up her concerns at work tomorrow. Maybe they could add it to the podcast. She couldn’t worry about that now though. She had best get to bed. She needed to be back at the office early. Her entire team would be there, no doubt. They couldn’t make any mistakes. It could be the most important episode they would ever air. It was a shame to have to scrap the version she had already prepared though. Oh well. It would have to wait. Everything else would have to wait.

\----- 

Zuko had a PR problem. His Earth Kingdom captors sat him down and explained it to him. They told him that the people of the free world found the Fire Nation frightening and mysterious, and that if he wanted to keep his head attached to his shoulders, it was his duty to demystify his country and make it as non-threatening as possible. “The free world” was their word choice. Zuko supposed he’d never felt exceptionally free, but then again, he only ever had his own experiences to fall back on. He didn’t know how the rest of the Fire Nation’s citizens felt. According to his captors, they felt “unfree” and the rest of the world felt “free.” He’d have to take their word for it.

The first step was to work on his language skills. He knew his Earth Tongue was clumsy and his accent was thick, but his captors went so far as to call it “off-putting.” He thought that was a bit harsh. After all, he’d studied Earth Tongue more than the rest of his family put together, but then again, he’d had more free time than they did. The rest of them were permitted to do actual work, and, you know, actually leave their chambers once in a while. Zuko might have studied harder if he ever thought he’d get the chance to put it to use.

So he was given a crash course. They’d taken away the translator early on, forcing Zuko to utilize what they were teaching him. His lessons concerned more than just the language. They taught him Earth Kingdom culture and customs, so that he’d not offend anyone or embarrass himself during diplomatic meetings, and gave him an overview of the Earth Kingdom governmental structure. “It’s a democracy,” they told him. He knew that already. “It’s the ideal form of government. It’s what the Fire Nation should one day strive for,” they told him. He hadn’t known that. They told him monarchy was bad, perhaps even evil. They told him that dictatorships quashed the spirit of the people. They told him leaders should be elected based on their merits, not automatically take over where their parents left off.  _ Then why are you keeping me here? _ He couldn’t help but wonder. Outwardly, he only nodded.

The next step was to reach out. He couldn’t wait for people to come and approach him, not if he wanted to appear friendly and cooperative. He wanted to appear friendly and cooperative, he was told. The concept of the media was something Zuko had trouble wrapping his mind around. Why should his goings-on be made public? If he ruled over his nation effectively, why was that anyone else’s business? He resigned himself to the belief that that’s just the way of things in democracies. “The people have a right to know what’s going on,” they told him. The Earth Kingdom must be a loud, chaotic place, with everyone sticking their noses in each other’s business all the time. Perhaps the Fire Nation would become that way soon. He decided he’d do whatever they asked of him, if it made his head stop spinning for a moment.

He was instructed to send out some emails. “Some” turned out to be on the order of thirty-five. Not everyone will respond, they explained. Most people will think it’s a hoax. Zuko had asked why they couldn’t just tell the people it’s not a hoax. “It has to come from you,” they said. Whatever. He crafted his message, and sent more or less the same thing to all of them. It was weird and vague. How could it not be? He was supposed to extend an invitation to the free press, whatever that meant. An invitation to do what? Meet him? Have a look around? See for themselves that his palace wasn’t actually full of emaciated war prisoners or nuclear devices ready to detonate on Earth Kingdom shores at the push of a button? Of course those types of horrors wouldn’t be kept at the palace. His father had chosen to bury his nation’s ugly underbelly deep, deep down, where prying eyes would never find it.

Zuko wasn’t proud of how his father ruled, but he also never thought he’d be in a position to do anything about it. And he certainly didn’t like being told what to do by a bunch of foreigners with guns pressed against his head. If his father taught him anything useful, it was how to put aside his emotions and do what he needed to do to live another day. He didn’t speak much, and sometimes he wondered if that led his captors to believe he was stupid. He never called them out on their obvious manipulation techniques, either, so they probably just thought that meant their techniques were working. That was fine. Let them believe what they needed to. Maybe they would get bored of him and find a new puppet to play around with. Maybe they would even let him go. Not that Zuko dared to hope for anything fortunate. He’d learned what kind of luck he had years ago.

He sent out the emails. Ba Sing Se Broadcasting. Earth Kingdom Public Radio. The Gaoling Post. Omashu Cable News. They all sounded the same, after a while. Privately, he hoped they didn’t reply. He didn’t want to deal with that right now. When he was finished, he hoped he’d be allowed a break, and of course he wasn’t. He grabbed a book on Earth Tongue conjugations and was made to review the conditional perfect again. Good luck was probably overrated anyway. Not that he’d know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earth Kingdom news outlets deliberate over Zuko's email.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's chapter is shorter, but nevertheless important. But don't worry, next week's chapter will be extra long to make up for it!

_ To Whom It May Concern: _

_ I, Fire Lord Zuko, am writing this letter in the hopes of reaching the Earth Kingdom Public Radio Director of News and Public Affairs, Cheng Young, regarding urgent business. The Fire Nation requests the presence of members of the Earth Kingdom free press to convey the messages of our new government on an international scale. The goal of such an undertaking is to confirm to the Earth Kingdom people that the Fire Nation is willing to take the steps necessary to become a part of the free world. I write to you in the hopes of working with the Earth Kingdom Public Radio for such a venture. We are looking for you to send a journalist to the Fire Nation to cover the progress of my nation. Said journalist would be allowed regular meetings with myself, and would receive free room and board within the palace for the duration of their stay. Any and all equipment required for the podcast will be provided. Further details can be provided, should you have the interest. _

_ Best, _

_ Zuko. _

As an accredited media organization, of course EKPR made sure to host a public-facing email. Listeners could message in to give suggestions on what they wanted to hear in upcoming episodes. It was a needle in the haystack—sure—but every now and then a listener would offer a meaningful tip and they could get a worthwhile news story out of it. That really only happened once or twice a year and to get to those gems, you had to bulldoze through an army of emails from every walk of life. Homeowners trying to put their neighbors on blast, restaurant patrons leaving unsolicited yelp reviews after their food came out cold, disgruntled spouses... Those were the tame ones. Damn, he was glad to be done with having to read those. He remembered his early years at EKPR when it was his job to check email and just how tempting it was to just “Select All,” “Mark as Read,” and call it a day. Everyone knew that the emails they got were bogus.

But this was... I mean come _ on_. They expected him to believe that the all-mighty son-of-a-dictator, or well, current all-mighty-dictator, from the elusive Fire Nation spends his free time drawing up emails to send to random radio organizations around the world. The government was overthrown in a bloody coup and number one on Fire Lord Zuko’s to-do list was to find himself a journalist. It was comical, really. 

  
Not to mention, the message itself was also just so vague and weird. He scrolled back through it again. It was overly formal, choppy and frankly, quite off-putting. If it was real, there would be an army of palace scribes who would do the writing for him and it probably would have arrived on some official Fire Nation letterhead in the mail. What did he know, maybe the Fire Nation didn’t use paper. Perhaps they considered it a fire hazard. Heh. Regardless, this was clearly spam. 

How this got forwarded to him, he had no clue. The intern charged with going through these emails probably didn’t know what to do with it and somehow it made its way up the chain of command and landed in his inbox. He made a mental note to review their intern training practices, clicked on the email, and dragged it over to the trash bin. He paused. The cursor blinked back at him.

_ Eh, fuck it, _ he thought, _ I don’t have anything better to do. _

He opened the file back up, hit reply, and responded unceremoniously, “We’re going to need some more proof you are who you say you are, Fire Lord.” He hit send and chuckled to himself. Chatting with his new penpal, the “fire lord” was as good of a way to pass the time as any. 

An hour later he got a response. This time in the form of a video. It was brief. Fire Lord Zuko introduced himself and explained that he was, in fact, looking for a journalist to work with. He closed the message by pointing out that he had also included his phone number in the email, and that he would be willing to schedule a phone conference with him if he was still interested. 

Cheng’s mind raced to give reason for the video looping on his screen. Could this just be a really good impersonation of the new fire lord? The Fire Nation accent was difficult to duplicate though. He pulled up pictures of the world leader on Google, and compared it to his video. It _ had _ to be him.

This brought Cheng to his second theory. Hollywood’s movie magic has gotten so believable recently. Maybe they photoshopped the fire lord’s face into the video and used some sort of sound editing software to mimic him. He knew how voices can be altered from assisting on various company podcasts. He also knew how long voice editing took though. Much longer than the brief 56 minutes between his email and the fire lord’s response.

That left him with his third and final theory. For reasons far outside his realm of understanding, The Fire Nation, arguably the most lethal country in the world, was genuinely in need of help from EKPR. So there’s that.

With that, Cheng called an emergency meeting. He invited the hosts and producers of all of the major news podcasts, all the local station managers, some board members, and even got the CEO to agree to skype into the meeting. The group filed into the large conference room somberly. 

Most of the meeting went as expected. Everyone was still concerned about the validity of the email. Then there were questions of safety. Subsequently followed by a long silence before the first person moved to ask logistical questions of how the project would function. The group seemed to accept the idea of the international project far faster than Cheng did. To the contrary, Cheng found himself tuning out through most of it. Not because he didn’t find it important, but because he felt like he was walking through a brain fog. 

A heavy weight was forming in the pit of his stomach. He was the running point for all of the company’s political podcasts, _ Getting Down to Earth, Talking Politics, This Earth Kingdom Life, _among others. If this actually went through, he would need to approve of which journalist they were going to rip from their home and fly into unknown territory.The worst part about it was that it was an obvious choice. The station didn’t exactly have a long list of podcasts touching on International Politics. 

Cheng always knew Katara as fiercely passionate and ridiculously ambitious person. He had actually been the one to train Katara back in the day. She didn’t need much, rose to the top of the training group, and before he knew it, was coming into her own at the station. If he was being honest, there was a brief moment where he was worried that, despite his longer tenure, Katara would out-perform him. Despite this, their competition bred friendship and the two of them eventually fell into step and learned to trust one another. Cheng took the job as director and she landed a podcast of her own. Since then, they both learned to balance their respective workloads. He found it comforting when late at night, after he thought all of the staff had already left, and maintenance had already come through, he would look out from his office and see the lights on across the hall in Katara’s office. At a certain point, he would go knocking on her door, beers in hand, and suggest that the two of them take a break. And so a weekly tradition began of the two journalists sitting in the dark of the office, letting their work,“just this once,” wait.

He knew Katara well enough from those evening chats that he knew she would accept this new job in a heartbeat. It was just who she was. Never one to shy away from a challenge, she would have her bags packed tonight if he asked. Leaked images of the sickly Fire Nation POWs flashed through his mind. Peace was so new. Who knows what kind of motive the fire lord might have for wanting this. It could be part of a larger ploy, for all he knew. He couldn’t ask this of her. It was too much.

He tuned back into the conversation, having missed what the company CEO had just asked. There was a brief pause and then he heard Katara chime in a simple “I’ll do it.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara is Fire Nation bound! Zuko... continues to hate his life.

Zuko’s uncle used to talk to him about what it meant to be a leader. When he was a child, and Lu Ten was still alive, these talks felt mostly conversational. Zuko might have needed leadership skills in a broad, nebulous sense, but as a spare prince, his leadership would never amount to much. When Ozai ascended to the throne, making Zuko the heir apparent, these talks took on more gravity than they had before. Then when he was disgraced, the talks ceased altogether. Zuko guessed his Uncle was afraid of upsetting him, of reminding him what he’d lost, either that or he’d decided Zuko’s future was no longer worth investing in. Zuko wasn’t sure which bothered him more. 

He’d always emphasized how leadership is a privilege, not a right, and how good leaders feel indebted to their people, not entitled to do as they please with them. 

“You know, Prince Zuko, the fire lord is a servant too,” he’d said once. 

Zuko, who couldn’t have been older than twelve, was puzzled. 

“How can that be? The fire lord serves no one!” 

Frustratingly, Iroh chuckled. “Ah, but that’s where you are wrong. The fire lord serves everyone! It’s his duty to improve the lives of everyone in the Fire Nation in any way he can.” 

Zuko didn’t reply. Thinking of the fire lordship as a role of servitude was too foreign to him. It had seemed like the kind of comment he would probably understand better when he grew older. His father had, on very rare occasions, given Zuko a similar kind of talk. Though, Ozai’s opinions about leadership had a decidedly different flavor. 

These conversations had left Zuko with the impression that being the fire lord was a very busy job. (In fact, this was the only unifying factor between Iroh’s and Ozai’s talks). Whether he chose to follow his uncle’s advice or not, he was sure that his attention would be divided a million different ways by all of the people who needed him. 

Now that the throne was finally his, he found there was very little to fill his daily routine. Of course, his regime was the product of extraordinary circumstances. His father, and the entire bloodline that preceded him, never had to deal with Earth Kingdom operatives breathing down their necks. But Zuko certainly did. So most of his time was spent waiting on them, deferring to them, following their orders... they left Zuko alone in his chambers when he wasn’t needed, which was most of the time. Overall, Zuko observed very few differences between being a leader and being a disgraced prince. He dearly hoped that was subject to change.

They let him make a few decisions. Well, “decisions,” in the same way that they let him “decide” whether he’d like to be crowned lord of his nation or be shot in the head. They told him they were firing his council, and that he would need to appoint new ministers. Alright. Well, only some of the ministers. Oh. They had made a selection from their own ranks to be the new minister of finance. An earthbender named Renshu. Furthermore, they determined Minister of Domestic Affairs Yat-Sen to be “stable” enough to carry on with his job. More senile was what they really meant. Yat-Sen was in his eighties and couldn’t hurt a spiderfly. 

He was allowed to select from a collection of résumés to fill the vacancy that War Minister Qin had left when he was ousted. The résumés profiled mostly young people who had recently completed graduate programs at Caldera City University. They were all Fire Nation, and all touted fairly impressive credentials.

Zuko wondered why they were allowing him this kind of power. Minister Qin was personally responsible for many of the human rights violations that had sparked international outrage during the war, and choosing his successor seemed like a process they’d want to control directly. Yet, here they were, placing the matter in his hands. He had to choose from the pool they gave him, of course, but the candidates were still Fire Nation, and proved surprisingly qualified. 

He learned later that this was only because they were intent on the war minister doing as little as possible for as long as they could help it. 

Once, as a small act of rebellion, he’d attempted to hire a PA. The Earth Kingdom operatives caught wind of it, and told him they’d think on it. A week later he was presented with a boy named Tomlin. He somewhat remembered Tomlin; he was Mai’s younger brother. He’d gone by Tom-Tom as a child. Now, he was Zuko’s nineteen-year-old PA. Zuko never found out why the Earth Kingdom operatives picked him. Tomlin didn’t seem to have any idea either. Nevertheless Zuko pocketed the tiny victory. 

Also on his incredibly short list of responsibilities was dealing with the journalists who had responded to his emails. He was stunned to find that anyone had been at all interested, but within a few weeks he found himself conducting tedious interviews with the small group that actually came. They all asked him similar questions. They were all overly formal, mildly awkward, and seemingly terrified to ask anything that more than scratched the surface of Zuko’s political situation. They took their notes and returned home in a hurry. That was fine with him, as he’d been concerned about revealing just how little he really knew. He never read anything they published about him. 

While pouring over the résumé of a war minister candidate named Jianling Du Tang, a staff member came and informed him that there still one journalist left, and she would be arriving later that day. The one from EKPR, Katara. He dimly recalled emailing her boss, Cheng. He’d been the obstinate one who required further proof of identity. Since then, they had exchanged correspondence that, in very general terms, outlined the scope of their project. Katara was to be creating a podcast. Zuko hadn’t known what a podcast was, so he did some research. It appeared to be just a pretentious name for a radio show. Katara had made other podcasts in her career, the most noteworthy being a show titled _ International Hour _ . Zuko’s exchanges with Cheng left him with the impression that whatever Katara would be doing in the Fire Nation was a distinct project, but he wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure how long she’d be staying. 

His mouse hovered over the first episode. (There were over a hundred of them). It was only a click away, and it’s not like he had anything better to do. He glanced around his empty office, as if he expected it to be anything other than empty, and put on a pair of headphones. Then he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and allowed his mind to be somewhere other than the present for the first time in a while. 

————

Katara felt Cheng hovering. He lingered outside of her office, rotating between pacing around nervously and uneasily watching her pack. Every now and then she looked up and made eye contact, only to find his face screwed up with concern before he inevitably looked away guiltily. Trying to avoid whatever Cheng had brewing, she opted to pretend not to notice him, and went about packing up her office. Besides, she had a lot of work to do. She didn’t have time for this. 

The meeting that morning went about as expected. She knew that EKPR wasn’t the type of organization to back down from an exclusive offer from the Fire Nation, should this email prove to be the real deal. If it was, a journalist would be selected and relocated. She corrected herself. It wasn’t just “a journalist.” It was going to be her. She just knew it. Don’t get it twisted, she didn’t just assume so out of some sort of misplaced arrogance. All the journalists were qualified in their own ways and she would be the first to recognize that. No, she knew she was going to the Fire Nation out of the mere fact that she was the only one who knew anything about it. She was the only one at the station to even attempt to find out about what was going on within the mysterious nation.  _ International Hour _ wasn’t going to be successful if they skimmed past the foreign state so she did her best to dig up what she could on Fire Nation history. Most of what she found stemmed from before the Hundred Year War, but still. Her selection just made sense. At least with this in mind, she had time to brace herself for what she was about to get herself into privately. The last thing she had wanted was to go into the meeting that morning and process the news in front of all of the company bigwigs.

When the meeting began and it actually came down to it, they had all danced around asking her. They already knew how this would end and the room buzzed with apprehension. Everyone naturally defaulted on she/her pronouns when talking about the “anonymous” journalist with international expertise. She twitched in her seat, feeling the attention the room wordlessly directed towards her, but still no one said anything. No one wanted to carry the responsibility of sending Katara off. Cheng had clearly checked out early in the meeting and offered her no reprieve. Right as she reached her limit, the CEO spoke up. 

“Well, I suppose we should talk about who would be the best candidate for the job. Are there any ideas?” The rest of the room fell into silence. 

The words bubbled up out of her, “I’ll do it.” The entire room let out a collective exhale.

She threw her hat in the ring, and that was that. She left the meeting in a daze, having glazed over the words of praise her coworkers had for her once she agreed. Quite frankly, she didn’t care if they thought her brave. It didn’t matter. She was leaving. She didn’t want to think about how they felt or what she was going to be missing or who she was leaving behind… No, not now. Now she had to compartmentalize. She made herself a task-list and worked through it. 

_ #1: Pack up the office. _ They planned to hire a new host for _ International Hour _ , of course. It was too successful of a program to kill when she left. They would hire a new host and move on without her. The office ran tight on space, so the new host would presumably be taking over where she was. Her bosses had politely asked her to move out, suggesting that it would be in her best interest to just bring her things with her to the Fire Nation. She wouldn’t have the space to bring all of it, but she could read through the lines and knew that they wanted her out. She figured she wouldn’t be using the office for a while anyway. If things went well, she would be out there for a while. If things didn’t go well, well, she might be stuck out there anyway. This task was easy enough. She got some boxes, pawned off some of the items she didn’t care for, and loaded up her car with ease. 

_ #2 Find somebody—anybody—to distract Cheng so she could work in peace. _ She couldn’t handle looking at the remorse in his eyes right now. People really had to stop acting like they were never going to see her again. She needed to trust herself enough to know that she could adapt to whatever the Fire Nation had waiting for her and so these puppy-dog eyes were really messing with her resolve. While packing, she had to push past Cheng out of her way more than once. Finally, when she picked up her last box, Cheng had asked her to stay behind to chat. Katara agreed. 

When she came back up from her car, he was sitting in her office. The room felt much larger without the clutter that had made its home there over the years. She had been working out of this office ever since she started  _ International Hour _ two years ago and she had made herself more than comfortable there. With how much she worked, Cheng always joked that she could stop paying rent on her apartment and just move into the office. Not like he was any better though.

She moved to sit across from him. “Alright, out with it, Cheng. What did you want to talk to me about?” She asked. She tried to come off nonchalant. Hopefully Cheng would see that she wasn’t worried and so neither should he be. 

No such luck. He fiddled with the cuff of his button-up “Katara… You know you don’t have to do this, right? There is no shame in staying.”

“Well,” her eyebrows furrowed. “It needs to happen. I mean, if we want peace—and I mean actual peace—we have to start forming a connection with the Fire Nation, right? The entire world ignoring them was how they were able to get away with as much as they did. It's how we got into this mess in the first place. We have to form some sort of dialogue. If the fire lord is willing to meet us halfway then we can’t just walk away from that.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, it's just… why do you have to be the one to do it?” 

“Well someone has to go, right?” Katara quickly retorted.

The conversation carried on like that for far too long. Katara couldn’t help but feel frustrated. She knew Cheng meant well and he was concerned for her as a friend, but she didn’t want to have to defend her choice to him when she had barely managed to convince herself. She didn’t have time for this anyway. She had so many things left to do...

In the end, she convinced Cheng that she would be careful and promised that should she feel unsafe, she would call him and get on a flight back to the EK immediately. She knew it was bullshit, but it helped him feel better, and that was what mattered in the end. When she went to leave, Cheng pulled her into a tight hug and when she pulled away, she could see the tears bubbling up in his eyes. 

“We’re rooting for you back here,” He told her. 

She smiled, promised that she would visit when she could, and made her leave. 

Now, what was next? 

_ #3 Pack up her apartment.  _ On her way home, she picked up some boxes to clean out her apartment. It was Tuesday, and she had to leave early Thursday morning. They had rushed her departure to the Fire Nation to try and beat out the other publications who might be flying out there as well. EKPR had no idea how many news outlets the Fire Nation contacted and wanted to jump the gun to get the story out first.

Of course they were restricted administratively. Katara needed time to move out, and so they gave her the night to pack, and then all of tomorrow to make any additional arrangements necessary. Still, that left her little time to get everything together. She stayed up through the night gathering her items and haphazardly tossing them into boxes. 

The next morning Katara called her landlord to inform him that unfortunately she would be leaving the country and no longer needed the apartment. Her landlord asked if everything was alright and if she was going back to the Southern Water Tribe. She lied and said she was. She justified the lie, arguing that maybe EKPR didn’t want news of the podcast to break preemptively. It would be unprofessional. If she was being honest though, she lied because she just didn’t want to have to talk about it more than absolutely necessary. 

She then called a moving company to take her boxes to a new storage unit. While the company loaded their truck, she phoned into some work meetings. She would be needing the help of some of her old  _ International Hour  _ team. They had a billion little things to cover, some of which she would have never thought about by herself. What kind of adapter would she need to plug her devices into Fire Nation outlets? Did they even exist? If not, then she would probably need to buy a new computer when she got there. That was, if they even had computers… 

It took most of the day but she got all of her loose ends tied up. Except for one, of course. She took one last look through the empty apartment, pulled the handle up from her suitcase and rolled it outside. 

_ #4 Talk to Sokka.  _ She rehearsed what she was going to say to him. She needed to be firm. If anyone could talk her out of it, it was probably going to be him.  _ Sokka, I’m moving to the Fire Nation for a job. Yes, I will be alone. Yes, I will be safe.  _ He was going to freak.

Sokka had always been protective of her. She remembered all those years ago when they first moved to the Earth Kingdom. Her father had loaded them into a plane, and she wasn’t old enough to process what was happening fully until the plane door shut behind Hakoda and suddenly her dad was gone. She immediately burst into tears and the plane took off.

“Hey c’mon sis,” He had told her, pulling her into a hug, “It can’t be that bad. You still got your big brother.” He had spent the rest of the plane ride distracting her with silly games. Both of them peered out the plane windows at the clouds below, joking about which ones looked like what. 

While her dad randomly came in and out of her life, Sokka had always been a consistency. When she moved, he moved. Yet here she was about to jump onto another plane out of the country and this time he wasn’t going with her. She told herself that she was worried about how he would take the news, but really, she wasn’t ready to leave him. 

She took a deep breath and knocked on their front door. Suki answered, with two of the boys resting on her hips. “Katara! Come on in!”

She did and took one of the boys, Wei, from Suki. Suki explained that Sokka was out in the garage finishing up with one of his customers and that he would be inside any minute now. They moved into the kitchen to get something to drink and chatted about how work has been. Suki wanted updates on Katara’s job, and Katara danced around the big news and then pivoted to ask how Suki’s job has been going. Running the Kyoshi Warriors organization with three infant boys and Sokka was no easy task. 

“Hey, Katara! Thanks for coming over!” Sokka came into the room, giving Katara a big hug. “What’s the occasion?”

Katara deflected, “Er, I’ll tell you over dinner, yeah? What are you guys making?” Suki knew something was amiss and looked up at her, concerned, and then back at Sokka.

Sokka, oblivious as always, responded cheerfully, “We’re doing some grilling!”

Katara helped them cook and then set the table. Sokka got the wrestling triplets strapped into the high-chairs, they all sat for their meal, and dug in. 

Katara waited until Sokka took a break from inhaling his meal to speak up so he wouldn’t choke. Finally, when Sokka came up from his plate for air, she took her shot.

“I’m moving out of the Earth Kingdom.”

“Ha, right. What? You moving back in with Dad?” Sokka taunted.

“I’m serious, Sokka.” 

Sokka leveled her with a stare and shifted back in his chair. “Wait, what? Where are you going?”

“It’s for work,” she replied quickly, “You know how the Fire Nation recently opened up their borders? The palace invited me to work with the new fire lord on a new podcast. I leave tomorrow. They’re gonna make sure it's completely safe, of course. I’ll be fine”

Sokka looked like she just struck him. After a long pause, he leaned forward and asked plainly, “Are you stupid?” 

“Wha-what? Of course not. Sokka, stuff like this… it’s just part of the job. It’s—”

“Dying is not ‘just part of the job,’ Katara.”

“I’m not going to die, Sokka. Don’t be dramatic.”

“That’s what Mom thought too.”

Silence. Suki’s chair screeched as she got up and started pulling the boys out of their chairs. “I think the boys need their diapers changed. We’ll be back,” she chuckled nervously, excusing herself from the room. Katara and Sokka barely noticed, choosing instead to glare at each other from opposite sides of the table.

Katara broke the silence first, “That was really low, you know.”

“Maybe, but I don’t care if it knocked some sense into you,” he shot back, “Did it?”

“No. Sokka, this is different. The war is  _ over _ . The Earth Kingdom is controlling everything anyway. We have people everywhere. They won’t let anything happen to me.”

Sokka gave her a pained look. “Even if that is true, what about us? You’re leaving your whole family behind. The boys love having their aunt around. _ I _ love having you around.”

That threw Katara through a loop. She could argue that it was safe to go until her face was blue. Explaining to her brother that she needed to prioritize her job over her family was far more difficult. It was easy for him, his family was his job. Sokka worked from home working a million different small jobs. He called his weird Frankenstein business “Sokka and Son and Son and Son.” He never had to pick between his family and what he loved. Katara regularly had to, and had lost several relationships over the years because of it.

She softened her expression and spoke carefully, “I know. I’ll miss you too. I’ll visit often though and I’ll have my phone. We can skype all the time.” When Sokka didn’t respond, she continued, “C’mon, we’re pros at transnational family bonding time already. It won’t be that different.”

Sokka let out a large sigh, but nodded before asking, “Does Dad know?” When Katara shook her head, he followed up, “Well you have to tell him at some point.”

“I know...but you know Dad. He can be unreasonable sometimes.”

He laughed, “So can you.”

Katara laughed and the tension finally broke. She told Sokka her plan to call Hakoda after she landed. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, right? Sokka thought it was a dumb plan, but she knew it would be the only way she could do it. They agreed to disagree.

Eventually, Suki came back into the room from wherever she was hiding and they were able to enjoy one last night together as a family. They finished a bottle of rice wine and laughed for hours after the boys fell asleep and night fell. In the following weeks, when Katara found herself feeling scorched by just how different she felt in the Fire Nation, she would look back on that night to stabilize her. That night was the last night in a while where she felt normal. She fell asleep happy and woke up early to hop on a plane to her future. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What, you thought Katara could just run off to the Fire Nation without getting some grief from her dear old dad?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week?? It's a Halloween miracle!

Kya always resented having to join the Earth army. Hakoda, in turn, always asked her why she did it anyway. It was a conversation they’d had many times, before and after she enlisted. Each iteration was mildly different from the last, but the heart of the matter was always the same.

“The Water Tribe military is a joke,” she would say, “I don’t want to be part of a joke. I want to make a real difference.”

It was true. They both knew it.

So Hakoda bit his lip when she was shipped off, and again when she told him she’d seen action. Years after she was gone, he still wondered if she made the difference that she wanted to.

She made plenty of differences in his life, and in the lives of their children. He knew that for certain. She was a wonderful wife, and a wonderful mother. But Kya’s depthless empathy extended beyond her own family. Even early on, she had a sense of herself in perspective to the rest of the world. She felt empowered to move it. The whole, enormous, world. That always amazed Hakoda. He always felt that the rest of the world would carry on with or without him. He was content to build his own little world and invest in that.

That’s why he wondered if Kya would think him a coward, if she could see him today. The Southern and Northern Water Tribes consolidated when Hakoda was a teenager, long before he ascended to chief. Since then, chiefdom of the Southern Tribe was more of a symbolic gesture than a real political office. It was as much a joke as their military. Hakoda scowled. He never found it very funny.

When the North and South joined forces, the agreement was that they’d be equals. They were to be two sides of the same coin, coalescing for their own safety against the Fire Nation. But the North was bigger, more technologically advanced, and more sophisticated. It always had been. It was only a matter of years before they used their advantages to tip the scales of power in their favor. Nowadays the Southern tribe was little more than a distant territory of the North, living under their leader, with their laws, and everyday assimilating more and more into their culture. Hakoda was the chief, yes, but he saw himself more like the class president in a high school, petitioning the real adults in the administration for changes he knew they’d never make. 

So when he heard whispers of an independence movement several years ago, he didn’t have high hopes. Baby-faced, optimistic young people starting making appointments with him in his office. They explained to him, seriously and passionately, why a split from the Northern tribe was in his best interest, and what they learned in their undergrad classes that supported their beliefs. As if he didn’t already know. Still, he couldn’t help but smile. He saw Kya’s fierce blue eyes on their faces. He felt Kya’s unbreakable spirit in their words. Sometimes they reminded him of Katara, too. Maybe that was just because Katara reminded him of Kya. Maybe everything reminded him of Kya. Maybe he was losing his mind.

He sighed and shoved aside the mountain of independence movement pamphlets on his desk. They were gaining enough traction that even Bato had wanted to have a serious conversation about it. Katara did an interview with some of their people a while back for her radio show. She’d wanted his input too. He spent hours agonizing over what to make of the topic but he still supplied an audio file, albeit late. It never got the chance to air anyhow, since apparently the Fire Nation’s circus of a government took priority. It wasn’t Katara’s fault, he knew, but he was so tired of being everyone’s secondary concern. Or tertiary. If at all. Fuck.

“They’re all waiting on you to take a stance, you know. Make some kind of statement about it.”

Agh, he hadn’t even heard Bato come in. Now he had spilled coffee on his sleeve. 

“Believe me, I know,” he muttered, wiping the coffee from his desk and salvaging the drenched paperwork. At times like these he wished he was a waterbender, “My daughter is bugging me more than these protestors combined.”

Bato blinked at him impassively.

“Surely you have an inclination one way or the other. Even if you’ve never admitted it out loud.”

“Of course I have an inclination. You think I, or anyone else for that matter, actually  _ like _ living under the Northern tribe’s thumb? But without any allies… I mean, Katara says Kuei is still holding out on us. He can’t afford to piss off Arnook. And if he has to choose between us and Arnook, well. No one in their right mind would choose us.”

“Then you need to inform the public of your decision,” Bato leaned back in his chair. Hakoda couldn’t tell if he was disappointed. He was hard to read when he wanted to be. Hakoda, on the other hand, was visibly frazzled.

“It’s not a decision! It’s just a… damn it. I can’t very well default on this, can I? That wouldn’t reflect very well on me?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it, no.”

“We need allies. We can’t do this alone.”

“And we don’t have allies. So it seems we can’t do this at all.” 

Hakoda fixed his second-in-command with a long, even stare. Bato was always calm and collected so that Hakoda didn’t have to be. It had been that way as long as they’d known each other, which was decades by now.

“Are you angry? Even a little bit?” Hakoda prodded, “For years we’ve had to sit idly while the North smothered our culture out of existence. Now we finally have the chance to do something about it, and we can’t take it?”

Bato finally relented, “I’m angry, okay? Furious, in fact. The Southern Water Tribe is our home. These people are our people. This culture is ours to be proud of. But there’s no good choice here, Chief. Not unless something changes with these other world leaders.”

Hakoda glared into his empty coffee mug.

“It won’t.”

Bato politely allowed a few seconds of silence to let the Chief’s words resonate with them both. Finally he rose from his chair.

“I’ll go tell the protestors what you’ve decided.”

“Wait!” Hakoda grabbed Bato by the wrist, “Just wait, please? Hold them off a little bit longer. I don’t care what you tell them. Just buy us a little more time.”

Bato drew in a deep, controlled breath, then nodded almost imperceptibly. When he left the room, Hakoda’s thoughts came crashing down on him. He wasn’t sure why he wanted more time, or what he expected to happen. He just knew he could hear Kya’s voice telling him to wait. 

\-----

Sometimes Hakoda wondered if his children still held it against him that he sent them away. They would never say it, of course. They’ve done well for themselves in the Earth Kingdom, better than they ever could have if they had stayed in the Southern Water Tribe. Sokka would never have met his wife, Suki, and Hakoda wouldn’t have his three adorable grandsons. Katara would never have earned her graduate degree from an Ivy League, and wouldn’t have her own radio show at a major news outlet. The Earth Kingdom offered resources and opportunities that the Southern Water Tribe just couldn’t. Hakoda refused to let his selfishness stand in the way of those opportunities.

He made sure their host family kept them safe and well cared-for. They talked on the phone every weekend. They sent each other pictures all the time. He never forgot a single holiday, birthday, or school ceremony. He was there when he could be, and when he couldn’t, he called and sent gifts. They tried their best to stay in each other’s lives. That didn’t mean those years apart weren’t hard. Hakoda could never explain to someone who hadn’t done it what it’s like to put your eleven-year-old daughter and your twelve-year-old son on a plane, not knowing when you’ll see them again. He overflowed with pride when he saw photos of their smart-looking uniforms on their first day of school, but he deflated just as quickly when he realized they would only ever be photos. He had no memories to accompany them. He wasn’t there. And it was like that with so many other milestones in their lives. Their first day of high school. Their junior prom. Their senior prom. When Sokka made the varsity soccer team. When Katara’s speech and debate team won regionals. Hakoda never got to see any of it. “At least you made their graduation!” People would say. But graduation comes at the end, after all, and by then he was too late.

When they were younger, they saw it as a punishment. They told him so. They felt they had been ripped from their home and forced to abandon their friends, along with everything else comfortable and familiar. He would stay strong and positive in front of them. They never saw how he cried when he drove himself home from the airport, or how he laid awake at night wondering if he had made a dire mistake. Now that they’re grown, he felt he was the one being punished. They’d both chosen to stay after high school. They both applied to the University of Ba Sing Se. They both got scholarships, and they both went. They both planted roots in the city after they graduated. They both held dual citizenship, but they both saw the Earth Kingdom as their real home. He expected as much, even before he sent them away. He wanted them to acclimate, didn’t he? He wanted them to thrive there. It meant they were healthy and successful. It meant he made the right call. But he never felt more alone than he did now. He was a widower, with two grown children a continent away, and the chief of a tribe he didn’t really rule.

In the darkest corners of his mind he considered his tribe’s failures to be his own, like it was somehow a reflection of his personal weakness that he couldn’t save his people from their Northern overlords. He wondered if his fellow tribe members gossiped about him, about how he would sooner send his own children away from this destitute place than do anything to fix it. He  _ was _ trying, he insisted to himself. But sometimes he wondered if he really was. His children made it out, they had bright futures, but what about all the children that had nowhere to go? He owed it to them to do something. Anything.

Maybe these independence movement people had the answer to his grievances. Maybe they didn’t. But change had to come, from where he didn’t know, but he would be there to welcome it when it did.

\-----

It was nearly four in the morning when his phone rang. Typically he wouldn’t have even been awake at that hour, but today he’d had an early morning bathroom break. Anyone calling him that early (or late, he supposed, depending on how you look at it) had to be a telemarketer or someone equally undeserving of his attention, but this time he noticed it was Katara. She wouldn’t call at four A.M. unless something was wrong. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and picked up immediately.

“Katara?” He answered, hoping he sounded more awake and alert than he really was.

A pause.

“Kat—,”

“Yeah. Hi, Dad. Listen…”

“Katara, is everything alright?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine,” she assured him hurriedly, giving off the impression that everything was not, in fact, alright, “It’s just… I need you to know where I am. And that I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Hakoda bullied his mind into focusing on the fact that Katara was an intelligent, responsible adult, instead of whatever else on earth could be happening right now.

“Okay? And where are you?”

“I’m in the Fire Nation.”

She deliberately let the words hang in the air for a moment. It wasn’t until seconds later when he found his voice again that he realized she was waiting for his reaction.

“You’re—you’re what? Why would you be in the Fire Nation? _ How _ would you be in the Fire Nation? I thought they didn’t even let outsiders in.” Well, he certainly wasn’t groggy anymore.

“Yeah, yeah, it used to be like that. But I guess this new fire lord guy is letting people in? Journalists, specifically. Dad, I… I took a job here,” she sounded like she was trying to pick her words delicately. He imagined she would have been fiddling with the phone cord, if phones still had those. Maybe a lock of her hair, then.

“And I’m guessing you didn’t tell me because you thought I’d be upset? Or that I’d try and stop you? How long are you going to be there?”

“I was going to tell you! I didn’t know what you’d think, okay? I just couldn’t let anyone talk me out of this.”

Hakoda scoffed. He didn’t really mean to, but he was far from pleased, “and why is that? Because this is a terrible idea and on some level you know that? Katara, they,” he lowered his voice, in case someone was listening in. Not that it would help, “they kill people there, you know that, right? They throw people in jail just for telling the truth. Strong-minded, outspoken people especially. And if you’re anything at all, it’s outspoken. And they don’t have due process, either. Or speedy trials. They just—” 

“Dad, stop. It’s done, okay? I’ve made my choice. I’m going to meet Fire Lord Zuko tomorrow and I’m going to do a weekly podcast about him,” there was a pleading note in her voice. She was upset now too, clearly, and Hakoda felt mildly guilty for it.

Hakoda took a deep breath.

“How long will you be there? And what about  _ International Hour _ ?”

“Cheng will give it to someone else, I guess. And I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. As long as the fire lord will tolerate me. We’re going to iron out the details tomorrow.”

Hakoda waited a minute before he made his reply. He needed to stop his mind from racing. He needed to let his jaw unclench. When he spoke, it was weak and sorrowful.

“Katara, I can’t lose you.”

“And you won’t! I’ll be smart, alright? I won’t do anything that’ll get me thrown in prison or killed. You know, the fire lord was the one who reached out to us? Not the other way around. He wants me here. He wouldn’t invite a bunch of journalists to his country just to kill them for doing what he told them to do.”

“I mean, we hope not…”

“Dad.”

He ran a hand over his tired eyes.

“I trust you. Just be safe.”

“I will,” she soothed.

“And call me whenever you have a chance!”

“Dad, I will. It’ll be okay,” she was starting to smile. He could hear it.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara and Zuko meet at last!

Katara’s first few hours in the Fire Nation went by in a blur. She stepped out of the plane and into an airport that looked like a time capsule of twenty years prior. Dragging her suitcase through the terminals to meet up with the Earth Kingdom officials, she was confronted with silence other than the squeaking of the wheels reverberating off the walls around her. The desolate hallways were bare, other than the odd portrait of a Fire Nation official of a time gone by. She couldn’t help herself and snapped a photo or two of the creepy portraits along the way.

It was hard not to notice how absolutely devoid of people the airport was. Her gut assumption was that the Fire Nation people lived in enough poverty that flying was a luxury that few could afford, but the emptiness could have also been because the Fire Nation probably didn’t permit people to move around very much. Certainly never outside of the nation. 

Thankfully, as she moved closer to the airport entrance, she came across more of the locals. She made eye contact with a few and tried to smile pleasantly at them. They didn’t respond to the sentiment and instead wordlessly stared back at her, golden eyes blazing into her own. She walked away quickly and felt their eyes following her with an intensity that scared her. A couple of times she overheard them speaking to each other in hushed tones before turning to look at her. What they were saying, she had no idea. She had hoped that her rudimentary Fire Tongue crash course would help her hold her own in the foreign nation and was quickly realizing that she was out of her depth. What had she gotten herself into? She held her bag closer to herself and kept moving. Looking back on it, more likely than not, the locals she walked by had probably never seen a water tribe woman before. They might not have even known a skin tone like hers existed. Perhaps the stares she received came more from curiosity than from malice. 

She eventually found the Earth Kingdom officials at the meet-up point, and they guided her into a car to the palace. They sensed her unease and joked about how “We’ve defanged the dragon” and so she had “absolutely nothing to worry about.” That didn’t make her feel much better. Rather than listen to them brag about their war victories, she decided now was as good of a time as any to call her dad. It must be late in the Water Tribe, but maybe it would be easier if her call went straight to voicemail. Although, she supposed it would be nice to hear a familiar voice. 

Of course, he answered. And of course, he responded just about how she expected him to. His first response was panic, and then worry, and then finally he settled for the general fatherly concern that Katara was already familiar with. She was glad that she got the call taken care of sooner rather than later, but she had to admit that talking with her father filled her with profound sadness. She felt more alone than ever, in this strange country, surrounded by these strange men. Her dad, despite his gruffness, always made her feel better. Phone calls could never do the man justice. Hakoda knew when she was having a rough go of things and could soothe her with a pat on the shoulder, or a subtle nudge. It had been too long since his last visit. He was busy running the tribe, and she had insisted that she had too much work to go visit him in the South. She regretted it, since it would be nearly impossible to see him now, what with the whole living in the Fire Nation thing. The idea of her father visiting her here was laughable. 

She peered out of the car window to admire the buildings flashing by. The Fire Nation was strange. First of all, everything was eerily out of date. She supposed older buildings weren’t uncommon in the Earth Kingdom, of course, but those buildings always looked like they had aged and eroded some over the years. The buildings here, despite looking architecturally older, looked like they were freshly built. 

It was also pretty clear that the Fire Nation refused to shy away from flaunting its power. Flying in, she saw the renowned Great Gates of Azulon. She heard that the gates were built under the orders of Fire Lord Azulon, who later demanded that it be named after himself. It was every bit as impressive and terrifying as she thought it would be. Of course, the nets were unlit, probably by demand of the Earth Kingdom, but it still looked massive. The Fire Nation demonstrated its power on land too. Every roundabout the car circled held a statue at its center. The larger the statue and the closer to the city center, the more important the figure was, she came to understand. The first few she saw stood on cement blocks, surrounded by floral arrangements spiraling outwards. She determined these figures to be military generals or government aids from over the years. This wasn’t too abnormal, as the Earth Kingdom had its fair share of statues of military heroes and civil rights leaders that bore stylistic similarities to these. More alarming though were the statues depicting old fire lords that made themselves known as she got closer to the palace. They would tower over the cars, forcing her to lean closer to the window to see the statues in its full grandeur. Each one stood atop a golden slab, with red and yellow underlighting that gave the statues a sort of glowing-illusion, almost as if the figure itself was molten. She snapped a picture, and the driver commented that if she’d taken the same photo a month ago, it would have been considered irreverent and treasonous, and therefore punishable by death. She put her camera away after that. 

Finally, the car came to a halt outside of the palace doors. She stepped out and in front of her was the palace entryway. The walkway was massive, spanning what felt like hundreds of feet. The cement itself was inlaid with delicate golden spirals reaching out towards the palace. The palace central tower loomed over her, winged by two smaller towers on each side, giving off the impression that she was surrounded. Seemingly every corner of the exterior was adorned by golden flame-like finials, whose sharp edges were most likely intended to prevent any sort of attacker from gaining access to the palace through the ceiling. It was admittedly a beautiful sight to behold. 

Distracted by the scenery, she didn’t hear what the operatives had said to her. She made eye contact with one of them, who was looking at her expectantly. 

“Follow us, please,” he repeated. 

“Right, sorry, coming,” she responded, shifting her bag back upon her shoulder, and following them up towards the palace.

Once inside the palace doors, palace guards shuffled the trio through security. One of the golden-eyed guards unceremoniously dumped the contents of her bag into a bin and searched for any prohibited items. She did her best to avoid the man’s gaze during the search even though he was destroying her bag, which she had neatly organized. Even though she knew that didn’t have anything out of the ordinary hidden within her things, she felt her mouth go dry. She wondered what they would have done to her if they had found something. She forced herself to remember that things were (hopefully) different now. Once she was cleared, she hastily packed her belongings back into her bag and rejoined her escorts in the otherwise empty atrium.

“So where are all the other journalists?” Her voice echoed throughout the space. 

“What are you talking about? You’re the only one,” one of them responded. They both chuckled at the look of bewilderment that she was sure flashed across her face.

“What? No one else accepted the invitation?” 

“Well, no, some did, but those guys are long gone.” 

“Right, okay. Um... can you just show me to my room then? I’d like to drop these off.” She motioned to her luggage. This wasn’t getting off to a great start. She was far more alone than she realized. If the only friendly faces around here were going to be these doofuses then she was screwed. 

They escorted her through different wings of the palace, down winding hallways until they finally reached her room. The room itself was nice, just like the rest of the palace, but it still left a bad taste in her mouth. A palace this grotesquely luxurious must have come at a steep cost, and she couldn’t imagine that it was the royal family that paid said cost. Still, there was nothing she could do about it now. 

Evening was quickly falling and she was too tired to leave her room to try and find some dinner. Opting out, she instead changed into her pajamas and slowly went about unpacking her bag to try and make the room feel more comfortable. After she finished, she tacked some pictures of her family up on the wall and then sat on the edge of her bed to admire them. Thinking about her family and the home she left behind, she found herself getting lost in her thoughts. She wasn’t sure when, but at some point she had laid back down onto the bed and fallen asleep, exhaustion preventing her from worrying too much about her first meeting with the fire lord the following day. 

The next morning she got up early to the sound of a palace employee knocking on her door to inform her that breakfast was ready. She got dressed, packed her bag, and made her way to the dining hall for a quick breakfast. She nibbled absentmindedly on some strange Fire Nation fruit she had never heard of and worked on committing what she wanted to say to the fire lord to memory. Under her breath, she practiced the pronunciation of her introduction in Fire Tongue. Listening to the conversations of those around her, she knew that in comparison her words hung far too heavy in her mouth, but she hoped that it was at least understandable. She had a few questions that she wanted to ask him written out in her notebook that she also wanted to check for accuracy. She probably wouldn’t be able to understand his responses, but she could listen to the recordings later and translate using her Earth-Fire dictionary.

When she ran out of excuses to loiter any longer, she packed her bag and left. After getting directions from the first Earth Kingdom person she could find, she made her way to the fire lord’s office.

She paused outside of the door to get her wits about her. Her friends’ and family’s words of caution swam around in her head. She pushed back against the fear and knocked on the door. After the sound of footsteps, the door was pulled open in a swift motion, revealing Fire Lord Zuko.

She hastily bowed. When she got back up, she made sure to keep her gaze downwards, and then recited her rehearsed introduction. “Most honorable Fire Lord Zuko. Thank you for offering me up the great honor of meeting with you. I am most grateful for the opportunity to have words with you. I am Katara, a journalist from the Earth Kingdom,” she told him in Fire Tongue. She looked up to make eye contact with the mysterious man. To her surprise, his eyebrows (or well, eyebrow singular. He only had one) furrowed and a small smile played on his lips as if he were appraising her. Her stomach knotted.

“It’s alright. I speak Earth Tongue,” he told her with the same thick accent she recognized from the initial press conference. 

“Right! I’m sorry, I just assumed…” she scrambled, “Well, nevertheless, it’s an honor to meet you, Fire Lord. Thank you for inviting me into your beautiful home.”

He nodded silently and turned to make room for her to enter. Once through the doorway, he closed the door behind them and moved to sit at his desk. After glancing nervously at the now shut door, she settled into a seat across from him. 

“Well, we should probably just get some preliminary details out of the way first, huh?” She rambled, pulling her recorder and journal out from her bag and gently setting it on the fire lord’s desk in front of her. “The normal interview standards all apply here. You’re free to skip questions or topics entirely. I can also send the final drafts to you before publishin—”

“That won’t be necessary.” 

“Alright,” she paused, “Then I wanted to ask you how long you want this project to last. I certainly don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

There was a small silence while he presumably worked through the translation. “Well, I do not know a lot about how the podcasts function, so my answer is that we should continue until you feel like you have completed your job.”

That didn’t give her much more clarity but nonetheless, she agreed. After briefly going over the general IRB interview rules with him, she leaped into her first question. She put a lot of thought into what kinds of questions she wanted to ask him. It had to be a balancing act. While she didn’t want to ask any questions that might set him off and get herself in trouble, she also had a journalistic responsibility to make sure that she was covering what her listeners wanted to hear. She started with an easy question. 

“What have the past few days been like, working with the Earth Kingdom?”

“Well, it has been dull,” he responded, matter-of-factly. She looked up at him to see if he was joking. From all of the news coming out of the Fire Nation, it seemed like the past few days were anything but dull. Still, his face gave no inclination of comedy. 

“Could you” she pondered, being careful to phrase her follow-up politely, “Could you elaborate on that?”

“Well, most of my work is done for me. My job is not a very exciting one,” he responded, watching her reaction. She shifted under his gaze. 

Still, she charged on. “I see. How do you feel about that? Is it very different from what you were used to as a prince?” 

“Yes and no. I had more freedom as a prince, to do things that were more palatable to my interests, but I still did not have the ability to be involved with politics under my father so that remains the same.”

She nodded. She wanted to follow up with a question about the fire lord’s late father but knew the question would be far too invasive, given how recently and violently his predecessor’s life had ended. Instead, she pivoted, “That makes sense. How have you felt about all of the Earth Kingdom journalists who have come into the Fire Nation to talk to you? Does the Fire Nation have journalists like that?”

“There is a news, but only one and my father had to approve of them. We did not have as many different companies as your nation does. No ‘free press’ as you say.”

“Huh. That’s interesting. Did you interact with the government-mandated media organization much as a prince?” 

“More so when I was young,” he responded, “Not as much when I got older and when my sister became the crown princess.” 

“Right. Your sister was next in line for the throne, correct?” She posed. 

“Yes.”

“But she was younger than you?” No one knew why the line of ascension skipped past Zuko and onto the younger sister instead. 

“Yes.” He leaned forward in his chair, making intense eye contact with her, almost as if he was daring her to ask more.

Again, not wanting to push him too far, she backed away from the obvious question and onto one of personal curiosity, “So women can take on the role of fire lord, then? Do women and men generally have similar societal expectations in the Fire Nation?”

“Well it depends on the class of the person in question,” he said after another long pause, “The poor have men and women both work similar jobs. Middle and upper classes normally keep women more separated, but then in the most upper classes, women can do more things. Like my sister can. Did.” He explained, nodding along as he pieced together what he was saying. 

“That’s interesting. The Earth Kingdom has a big problem with gender discrimination. I mean, not legally, really, but it still happens. We still haven’t had a female prime minister and so its really cool that you guys almost had a woman in charge,” She felt herself rambling, nerves getting the best of her, “So that is one thing the Fire Nation has over the Earth Kingdom. I’m sure the Fire Nation has plenty of other things that make it a great country, of course.” _ Wow. _

He gave her that same disconcerting smile that he had flashed at the beginning of their conversation and she still had no idea how to interpret it. Was he judging her for not knowing more about the Fire Nation? Did he just think her below him and therefore, amusing? Did he revel in the way he made her squirm? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she had just about reached her limit for this interview and needed some time to process. He gave some throwaway response and then she chimed in with a “Well, I don’t want to take up too much more of your time today” and clicked the recorder off. He looked at her, surprised, but nodded.

“How often would you like to have these interviews?” She asked while she packed her bag. 

“Once a week seems reasonable enough to me, do you not think?”

“Sure. I look forward to seeing you then.” She got up to leave.

“Do you know how to get back to your room from here, Katara? I can help you,” he offered. 

“I should be able to find my way, thank you though.” She responded quickly and walked out. It unnerved her to know that he apparently knew which room she was staying in. 

She was grateful to have the walk back to her room alone. It gave her time to process the conversation she had with the fire lord. He was weird, there was no doubt. He had a way of staring at her for too long, and then wouldn’t contribute enough to a conversation to keep it at a steady pace. It would make her flustered and ramble to make up for the awkward moments, which only exacerbated their communication issue. 

She wasn’t sure what to make of him as a person though. It was unclear how much of a danger he was. On one hand, he didn’t have control of much of anything anymore. He even admitted that his life has been “dull” since the coup. On the other hand, if he did have underground power at his disposal, there was no reason for him to tell her that. He very well might be planning a secret rebellion for all she knew. 

And what was that about him offering to walk her to her room? It was unclear if he offered to help her back to room out of genuine kindness or if it was a veiled threat. He could have wanted to make sure she got back safe. Or he might have wanted her to know that he knew where she lived just in case she stepped out of line. Her gut said he meant the latter. He had to have made a specific effort to learn where she was staying, after all. It was going to be much harder to fall asleep with that in mind.

She made it back to her room finally and closed the door behind her. Much to her dismay, the door didn’t have a lock. For some reason, all of these developments didn’t dishearten her necessarily. If anything, she felt compelled to proceed, but had to do so with caution.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to hear from someone new this week

His new name was Mushi. He suspected he pissed off someone somewhere in the chain of command, and now his new ID cards reflected it. He didn’t really mind, as long as his new name was entirely unlike his old one. The name was the most important part, really. No one in the Earth Kingdom knew what he looked like, save for a few fuzzy photographs that might have been on the evening news once or twice. Their intelligence agencies had a better idea, but well, they weren’t the enemy anymore. It was still weird, being in league with them.

When Lu Ten died, Iroh was forced to do some thinking. Thinking was all he could do, really, since his brother had stolen the throne and he’d withdrawn from the war. He spent his days looking for something, anything, to derail his train of thought if only for a moment. Distractions came and went. He dabbled in painting, origami, even cooking, though the palace chefs never seemed quite at ease with his presence. They had trouble believing he wasn’t going to report their fumbles back to his brother when he was finished sitting in on their meal prep. He spent a good deal of time with Zuko after Ozai banished him from the public sphere. Zuko had always struck him as a lonely child, and it had become more pronounced as he grew into his teens. The first time Iroh stopped by his quarters unannounced, Zuko’s reaction riddled him with guilt.

“Uncle!” He exclaimed, throwing the door open wide enough for him to pass. His face lit up like a lantern. “It’s good to see you! Um… did father send you? Do you need something?”

Zuko peered around the hall, as if he expected to see his father waiting there for him.

“No, it’s only me. I thought you could use some company!” Iroh replied, making an effort to sound cheerful. Zuko’s father didn’t need him, and probably never would. But that didn’t mean they should dwell on it.

Iroh plopped down a heavy wooden box on Zuko’s desk.

“I brought my Pai Sho tiles. I thought you might like to play it with me. Do you still have your table?”

Zuko nodded, and scrambled to the far corner of his chamber. He returned lugging his circular Pai Sho table with him. He still wasn’t quite strong enough to carry it overhead. They knelt by the table and Iroh began to arrange the tiles in their starting positions.

“How have you been?” Iroh asked conversationally, as he slid a tile several places. He looked up and met Zuko’s eye. “Your scar is healing nicely.”

It was the elephant rhino in the room, and they may as well talk about it.

Zuko stretched his mouth into a grim line. “Yeah, well. Father at least had the courtesy to give me the finest medical treatment the Caldera has to offer after he burned me.”

There it was.

“Zuko, listen to me. My brother is a complex man. He doesn’t always—”

“And then he locked me away,” Zuko spat, pushing his lotus tile with more force than necessary. 

“You are not a prisoner, Prince Zuko.”

“Oh yeah?” Zuko folded his arms, his Pai Sho strategy seemingly forgotten. “Then why did he pull me from the academy? Why can’t I join him and Azula in war conferences anymore? Why can’t I leave the palace? I tried to visit the plaza the other day and the chauffeur said she was under orders not to take me anywhere. I might as well be a prisoner.”

“Most prisoners do not get to sleep in their own beds, or eat food cooked by personal chefs, or have access to private tutoring.”

“Yeah, great, I’ll just become a monk and spend the rest of my life studying in a library.” He scowled and drew his knees up to his chest. He then flashed a sarcastic grin that made his mangled eye look even narrower and meaner. “Be grateful for what you have, right?”

Iroh frowned, and Zuko uncurled himself. He leaned over the board and looked more miserable than before, if that was even possible.

“There’s just… so much time, you know? The last thing I want is to spend every moment replaying what happened in my head, but that’s all I can do because there’s so much time. And I can try to spend it occupying myself with books, or firebending, or board games, but it just doesn’t help. Nothing can make me forget that this is the rest of my life now.” Zuko’s voice cracked. At his age, it was probably equal parts emotion and puberty. No thirteen-year-old should have to endure this. Iroh silently cursed his brother’s sick notion of justice.

“Prince Zuko, I did not mean to make you upset. I only meant to try and—”

“It’s fine,” Zuko snapped, then moved one of his tiles across the board at random. The rhododendron tile couldn’t even move in that direction, but that hardly seemed like the kind of thing Iroh should point out right now. Eventually Zuko looked up at him, offering a silent apology for his outburst with a softened expression. “So, um, how are things with you?”

“I’ve been better, my nephew.”

“Yeah?” Zuko ventured cautiously. “Do you… also have too much time…?”

Iroh smiled gently.

“Yes. I think that’s exactly it.”

Iroh vowed to visit him more often after that. It was evident that Zuko was going stir-crazy in his private chambers, no matter how big and luxurious they might have been. It was no substitute for human contact. The staff that brought his meals and did his laundry didn’t count. He needed someone who would listen. Iroh tried his best to be that someone.

He wondered how Zuko was faring without him these days. Years of solitude had made him into a timid and thoughtful young man, if a bit lacking in self-esteem. He was learned, too. Despite his angry ramblings about becoming a monk in a library, Zuko did throw himself into his studies. Since Ozai denied him hands-on experience in the political realm, Zuko endeavored to find it on the pages of his history books. When he grew bored of that, he taught himself Earth Tongue. When that failed to capture his interest, he turned to war strategy. Once he told Iroh all about a book he’d read on knot tying. Iroh told him that would come in handy if he ever became a sailor. They laughed, until they both realized Zuko would never become a sailor. Zuko would never become anything. Zuko then buried his nose in a guide to the flora and fauna native to Kyoshi Island. Not that he’d ever need that, either.

At one point he began to read the kinds of books his younger self would have snubbed: poetry, romance, and tragedies. Iroh had a theory that Zuko used these kinds of stories as a stand-in for the socialization most teenagers got by spending time with one another. When his peers were going on dates and getting their hearts broken, Zuko read the tale of Oma and Shu by the dim light in his study. Iroh could only hope that somewhere in Zuko’s rigorous self-imposed curriculum he’d gathered the skills to be a leader. He knew Zuko had the heart for it, the head too, but he’d spent so many years being told he was worthless.

Now that Zuko finally had a chance to prove himself, Iroh wasn’t there to tell him that he wasn’t worthless. He’d have to hope Zuko would learn to believe in himself on his own.

He plucked his brand new key out of the manila envelope he’d been given and unlocked the door to his tea shop. The shop was on the bottom floor, and the studio apartment on top was Iroh’s—no, Mushi’s—new home. He’d been allowed some say in constructing his new identity. Not the name, evidently, but the occupation had been his idea.

“What are your hobbies? Your interests?” The witness protection officer had asked, and then explained, “Your new identity will be more believable if it overlaps with your real personality.”

Iroh had never worked a day in his life, that is, unless you counted serving as a top-ranking general in the Fire Nation Army, but damn did he know how to brew a good cup of tea. So they went with that.

He was looking forward to his new life. He liked the prospect of leaving behind the drama of the royal palace and getting to live simply. There would be adjustments he’d have to make, to be sure, but he had studied for this. There was culture shock, but he refused to let it overwhelm him. He liked to pretend he was a tourist. Maybe here, in the Earth Kingdom’s bustling capital city, he would finally find peace.

He just hoped Zuko and Azula weren’t hurting too much. If he ever saw them again, and that was a big if, he hoped they’d forgive him. He hoped they’d understand that everything he did, he did for them. The Earth Kingdom would have raided the palace at some point anyway, and if they’d done it without Iroh’s help then there would have been no one to negotiate for his niece’s and nephew’s lives. As for Ozai, well… Ozai was beyond help. That’s what Iroh kept telling himself.

“Your brother is a detriment to himself and others. You’re doing the right thing here, General,” they told him. He told them to stop calling him “General.” He hadn’t been a general in years.

He took a deep breath and surveyed the empty shop. One day this place would be cheerfully decorated and swarming with satisfied customers. Until then he just had to concentrate on being Mushi. Mushi didn’t have a dark past. Mushi didn’t have trouble sleeping at night. Mushi was a simple man with a gentle heart. In a different life, Iroh might have actually been Mushi, or at least he would have liked to.

He took a moment to check the new phone witness protection had given him. It didn’t take long to find what he was looking for. He took a seat on the floor (he didn’t yet have any furniture) and watched Zuko on the tiny screen. He looked so small and afraid, but he maintained a quiet sort of dignity. Zuko was strong, deep down. He’d have to be, to survive what he had. The words Zuko recited weren’t his own. Iroh knew they’d coached him beforehand. But if everything went the way he hoped, that is, if his sacrifice was worth anything at all, then one day Zuko would speak for himself.

“I’m rooting for you, nephew,” Iroh said to a pixelated Zuko who couldn’t hear him. “I know you don’t know it, and I know it might not seem like it now, but you have at least one person on your side.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’ve heard what Katara thinks of Zuko, now let’s hear what Zuko thinks of Katara

Frequently overlooked is the fact that the Earth Kingdom once tried to lay down colonies in the Air Temples. It was a long time ago, of course, before the war started and before public opinion generally turned against the practice. But not everyone had forgotten. Renshu, being a direct descendant of those colonial families, certainly hadn’t. His ancestors had been there when the Fire Nation made its vicious first strike against the Air Nomads. The stories had been passed down, generation to generation, captured in vivid enough detail that Renshu sometimes felt he might as well have been there himself.

That’s probably what motivated his great-great-grandfather to enlist. When the Earth Kingdom attempted to establish footholds in the Air Temples, the process had been more peaceful than not. But the Fire Nation attacks had been... just brutal. Senselessly so. The kind of indiscriminate cruelty that makes you question whether the attackers were human at all, that’s what Great-Great-Grandpa had said. Since then, even though the family hadn’t so much as set foot in an Air Temple in decades, nearly everyone in Renshu’s family enlisted. They all took it upon themselves to carry out Great-Great-Grandpa’s mission to stamp out Fire Nation cruelty. Renshu was no exception.

His father, now retired, had been an officer. His mother, nearly his father’s age and as formidable as she’d been in her youth, still was. His sister Liling has recently been promoted to Sergeant. There was no doubt that Renshu had inherited his family’s earthbending talent. He was tall and athletic, just like the rest of his kin, and had done spectacularly well for himself in boot camp. But ever since he took it upon himself to do the family’s bookkeeping as a teenager, it was clear his talent lay not on the battlefield, but in numbers. The Earth Kingdom’s military budget was highly complex (and, some would say, bloated beyond all reasonable measure) so there was a plethora of people and departments that worked together to make it happen. Renshu was one of those people. And throughout the course of his career, he found his input mattered more and more.

He loved his country. He supposed he should reserve some of that love for the Air Temples too, as his family had once been at home there, but he never managed to muster up the same patriotism for them. He didn’t have any Air Nomad blood, as far as he was aware. The colonists might have wanted to intermarry, but whatever plans they had were stymied when it became clear that the Air Nomads didn’t marry at all, let alone to foreigners. So Renshu considered himself to be thoroughly Earth. He’d always held the deep and genuine desire to do right by his country and make his Great Grandfather proud. Everyone who knew him knew that. His performance reviews boasted descriptors like “dedicated,” “loyal,” and “industrious.” He constantly found ways to cut expenditures without compromising the quality of the good work that his fellow service people were doing. Even in grade school, he always dutifully recited the national pledge; never once did he mouth the words silently or invent a silly parody version like his classmates did. He was a good Earth Kingdom citizen, through and through.

That’s why he couldn’t for the life of him understand why he was now seated at a desk in the Fire Nation royal palace. His desk, he reminded himself. He worked here now, in the service of the fire lord. What on earth had he done to deserve this? Maybe he’d badgered his superiors too much for a promotion. He only wanted the respect he felt he deserved. (And a pay grade to reflect that. Was that so wrong?) “Here’s that promotion you’ve been asking about,” they cackled, as they flicked a golden flame-shaped pin in his direction. He’d pricked his finger on the fiery little prongs when he attached it to his jacket. “Minister of Finance” was the kind of prestigious title he used to dream about, just not in this forsaken country.

The fire lord seemed to despise him just as much as Renshu despised being here. He couldn’t have been much older than Renshu was, perhaps even younger. They made their mutual animosity clear every time they spoke, which was infrequently as long as either of them could help it. The fire lord would narrow his asymmetrical eyes at him and mumble sparely worded commands in broken Earth Tongue. He hadn’t even bothered to find out if Renshu spoke Fire Tongue, which, for the record, he did. He probably just saw Renshu’s green-eyed visage, appointed to his council without his consent, and assumed he was just as clueless as the other soldiers he’d been forced to work with. It didn’t seem to occur to him that Renshu might actually be well qualified for the job.

“If you’re waiting for the fire lord to give you something to do, you’re in for a long day,” a voice called from the doorway. It was Jian, the minister of war. She was one of the fire lord’s appointments, born and raised Calderan, but Renshu had to admit that he liked her company. She was funny, and didn’t have any reverence for anything here. They had that last bit in common. Plus, she’d actually bothered to talk to him enough to know he knew Fire Tongue.

“He doesn’t trust me,” Renshu replied matter-of-factly.

“No, he doesn’t.” She stood sideways, all her weight on one hip. She had a habit of entering without asking first.

“What about you? I don’t see you hard at work in your own office.”

She threw up her hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m the minister of war! The fire lord can’t very well give me anything to do without raising a few eyebrows, can he?”

“There’s reparations.”

“That’s International Relations.”

“Ah.”

They stared at each other. If she were anyone else, that probably would have been the end of the conversation.

“You wanna get some lunch?” Jian offered, tilting her head in the direction of the window, and the entire world that lay outside it.

“It’s not even eleven,” Renshu countered. He never ate lunch before noon. He lived and died by numbers.

“Did I stutter?”

Less than twenty minutes later he found himself seated at a restaurant near the plaza, even though it was the middle of the workweek. Jian ordered herself a mimosa.

Jian was like that. The longer he was here, the clearer that became. She had a way of prying him out of his shell and making him see the beauty in this strange country. She didn’t seem to care, or even notice, that he resisted her every step of the way. She took him to see all kinds of street fairs and festivals, all of which were too disorderly and colorful for his taste. The fireworks were kind of pretty, he supposed.

Jian even made him reconsider his unspoken feud with the fire lord.

“He’s, like, I dunno, thirty, and he’s hardly been outside the palace. His father wouldn’t let him. So it’s not like he even liked his family that much to begin with and then, boom! They’re murdered right before his eyes! You think you’d be a happy camper after something like that? Plus you’ve seen his scar right?” (Yes, Renshu had seen his scar. It was pretty hard to miss). “His own father did that to him! Can you even imagine?”

Renshu had asked why his own father would burn his face, or more generally be so cruel to him.

“That’s the thing!” Jian exclaimed animatedly, like she was recalling the plot of a TV show, not the horrific details of a real person’s life. “Nobody actually knows! Nobody’s heard from him since he was a kid. Or maybe a teenager. A young teenager. A tweenager. I don’t remember, I was a kid too. But it’s spooky, right?”

Jian was right, it was spooky. This whole place was spooky. It gave off a foreboding aura that made Renshu imagine all of the secrets and backstabbings these walls had seen. For one thing, it was furnished all too nicely, and only by last century’s standards. It reeked of the kind of money that could only be acquired by prying it from the hands of hungry peasants. Every tacky ballroom, courtyard, and foyer served as a monument to that era’s fire lord’s poor taste. The overly ornate columns that lined the halls were probably only load-bearing in that they held up past fire lords’ massive egos. The royal portrait gallery was so eerie it might actually be haunted. But none of that, Renshu had to confess, was anything Fire Lord Zuko could control. 

He’d noticed that Jian just called him “Zuko,” although not to his face. At least he didn’t think so. He didn’t actually know how the two of them spoke when he wasn’t there. Perhaps they were actually friends, or something like it. It was odd imagining that the fire lord might have friends. Renshu didn’t see why he couldn’t, especially since he wasn’t actually arrogant. Renshu had expected him to be a total brat, but in reality he was just sad. He oozed a melancholy that permeated everything he said and did. Even when he was angry, it was a dejected, pathetic sort of anger. More than once Renshu had caught him just staring into space all alone in his grandiose office. Renshu came to understand that was something they had in common: neither of them really wanted to be here. Neither of them asked for this.

\------

He’d expected _ International Hour _to be relaxing. All he wanted was to pop in his headphones, lean back in his desk chair, and be somewhere other than his reality, which managed to be both terrifyingly chaotic and depressingly banal at the same time. It was impressive, really, how his life always managed to be the worst of both worlds.

He didn’t get what he bargained for. The podcast was not relaxing. Instead, it was enlightening, but not in a good way. His Earth Kingdom captors had told him in no uncertain terms how the Fire Nation was perceived by the rest of the world, but they were so much easier to ignore. They were cruel, and violent, and they worked for the military for spirits’ sake! How could they possibly speak for the common Earth Kingdom citizen? The common citizen, Zuko had supposed, went about their daily business and hardly gave much thought to the Fire Nation at all. But according to Katara from EKPR, he had supposed incorrectly.

He meant only to listen to one or two episodes, but Katara’s inquisitive and compelling narration drew him in. More engrossing than her narration was the subject matter. Some of the episodes were about Fire Nation, and some never touched on it at all, and after a few hours, Zuko simultaneously wanted to listen to everything she had to say about it and also avoid it at all costs. After spending all night lying awake binging her show, he still didn’t know what to think.

She talked of horrific human rights violations. POW camps, secret military projects that utterly disregarded previous nuclear disarmament agreements… the list went on. Zuko knew about all of that, though. Most of it anyway. But his father always made it seem reasonable. The way his father used to discuss the rest of the world made it seem like _ they _ were crazy and unjustified in their demands. It was how Katara characterized his father that bothered him. She made him out to be a mad man. The kind of lunatic who would use the national treasury to build another wing on his magnificent palace before he’d let his starving peasants see a single copper piece’s worth. Most worrisome was that Zuko couldn’t discredit her. He remembered when that additional wing was built. He sat in it right now, sipping tea under the west-facing veranda. He never thought about where else that money could have gone.

Katara was highly opinionated, and given the nature of her opinions on the Fire Nation, Zuko had expected their first meeting to go far worse than it had. Still, Katara seemed somewhat afraid of him, and after listening to an entire night’s worth of _ International Hour _, he was somewhat afraid of her as well. He was starting to understand why the EK special ops people had emphasized the role of the media as much as they had. Katara might very well have the power to make or break him this early in his reign. He might have already blown his interviews with the other journalists. He understood so little about the free press that it was hard to say.

Katara had been as cautious as the others, reciting his entire title with a near-comical guardedness and treading lightly around anything they thought might upset him, but she had a persistent curiosity that the others lacked. After all, the others were content to conduct their perfunctory interviews and then return to the Earth Kingdom as quickly as they’d come. Katara’s project was a more comprehensive undertaking. She wanted to get to know him, really know him, not the face he bore to the public, and maybe report something back to her people worth listening to. She’d been surprised that Zuko was willing to cooperate.

On the eve of their second meeting, Zuko found a bug in his office. Forcefully, he tore it down and then set about sweeping the rest of the room for more. He shouldn’t have been surprised, really. They’d bugged his bedroom, too, right before they released him from his makeshift prison cell. He’d been reclined on his bed, on the brink of sleep, when his eyes adjusted to the dark well enough to see a glint on a nearby wall hanging that hadn’t been there before. They’d tried to bury the tiny lens in the floral pattern of the wall scroll, but Zuko, having painted it, knew the piece too well to glaze over any anomalies. His subsequent inspection revealed that that had been the only camera, but there were three more listening devices.

“I will cooperate with you, but I draw the line at this invasion of my personal privacy,” he told the final device, loudly and clearly, before ripping its spiderlike wires from the wall.

Since then, with the room free of bugs (he hoped) he sat at his desk opposite Katara several more times. Their subsequent meetings were unfortunately much like the first. Katara posed her cautious questions, and Zuko gave his terse replies. At the very least, they were starting to grow accustomed to one another’s timid mannerisms, and had settled into an odd routine. Today was no different. 

She flicked on her recorder, and Zuko watched the steady blinking of its little red light. At least Katara, unlike Zuko’s captors, had obtained his consent to record him. It was still an alien thought to him, that anyone cared what he had to say.

He looked from the recorder to her cerulean eyes, and was reminded of something he’d wanted to ask for a while now, but had been too shy.

“Can I ask you something?” He began, fiddling with a cufflink. “I hope it is not too personal…”

Katara seemed understandably wary.

“You do not look like you are from the Earth Kingdom.”

She smiled almost imperceptibly. “That’s not a question.”

“Are you from the Earth Kingdom?”

Something within her, her stubbornness, maybe, deflated. She broke her eye contact. “No, I’m not.”

“I hope I have not offended you?”

“No!” She assured him, “No. I know that I don’t look ethnically Earth. It’s fine. I’m from the Southern Water Tribe.”

“But you live in the Earth Kingdom.”

“Well, I live here. Now.”

Zuko exhaled. It’s like she was toying with him.“You understand what I mean.”

“Yeah. My dad sent us—my brother and me, that is—to live in the Earth Kingdom when we were kids. I guess he thought there would be better opportunities there. The Southern Water Tribe doesn’t really have things like fancy prep schools, or universities with decent funding…”

Zuko tilted his head to the side and wondered aloud, “He did not accompany you?”

“No. His job kept him behind. He has a lot of responsibilities in the Southern Water Tribe.”

“He trusted you to go all by yourself?”

“Well I wasn’t alone!” Katara reminded him. “I had my brother. And besides… I don’t see it as a matter of trust. If anything it was a sacrifice. I’m sure he would have preferred to have us at home with him.”

Zuko frowned. He was trying to recall a single instance in which Ozai had made a sacrifice on his behalf. He came up with nothing.

Katara carried on unprompted. Zuko often found that his peculiar silence left others with the desire to fill it.

“He’s a good dad, you know? Some people think he’s not, because he sent us away, but he is. And like, yeah, it was hard sometimes. There was a language barrier, at first. And the people of Ba Sing Se weren’t really used to meeting people from the Water Tribes, but, that’s just a part of any immigrant’s story, isn’t it?” She paused, watching his face carefully, “…or, I guess you don’t really have immigration here, do you? You probably don’t really know what I’m talking about.” She trailed off, like she decided it was stupid halfway through.

There wasn’t immigration in the Fire Nation. Everyone born here stayed here, and everyone born elsewhere rearranged and shuffled themselves all around the globe, apparently, but not here. The meager number that managed to leave never came back. Zuko had never been anywhere outside Caldera City, so it didn’t make any sense that Katara’s story resonated with him. He was just raised to not feel at home anywhere.

“When you came here, you had to start all over again,” Zuko said. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that the journalists flocking to his nation would feel just as inconvenienced as he did.

Katara gave him a pitying look. He hated being pitied. “Well, yeah. But it’s okay. I’m used to it. And it’s for the job. It’s worth it. Although I guess… it’s different without Sokka. That’s my brother’s name. He was there for me in the past, even when my dad couldn’t be, and I finally ventured somewhere he couldn’t follow. He has a family now. A wife and three sons. He can’t just pack up and leave them, so, even though I’ve moved around before, this is the first time I’ve really been alone.”

Zuko didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Katara insisted, shaking her head. Her cheeks took on a hint of rouge. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. On the record, no less. We’re supposed to be talking about you.”

“That’s okay,” Zuko supplied hurriedly. “That’s why you have editing capabilities, no? Can I ask you something else?”

“Shoot,” she replied, leaving Zuko mystified. “It means ‘go ahead,’” she clarified.

“Right. Are you a waterbender?”

She smiled. A real, genuine smile this time.

“I am, yes. I didn’t know if I’d be allowed to practice here…”

“You can! I will make the arrangements for it, if you like,” he offered.

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

She reached for the recorder and switched it off.

“Maybe we should just start over…?” She suggested. Zuko agreed. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara grapples with why Zuko is such a bizarre human being

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates it

Today marked Katara’s one-month anniversary of living in the Fire Nation and she didn't have shit to show for it. Her meetings with the fire lord dredged on weekly, always at the same, excruciating pace. Every Thursday she would make her way to the fire lord’s office, and every Thursday she would get herself fired up to ask some of the hard hitting questions that she was dying to ask, but by the time she sat down across from him, the questions died on her lips.  _ C’mon Katara,  _ she would tell herself,  _ you’re losing your nerve.  _

A whole month and the best conversation the two of them shared had come from their most recent meeting. The irony was that all of it was entirely unusable too. She hadn’t travelled all this way for him to be the one asking  _ her _ questions. The conversation in question was the one where he asked her about her family—not for nefarious reasons, she could only hope. She let her nerves get to her and had been all too willing to divulge. In an act of pure frustration, she had deleted the conversation in its entirety. After all, she was supposed to be learning about his life, not the other way around. 

It wasn’t like she wasn’t running on a time constraint either. Cheng was being patient with her for the time being because (she assumed) he felt guilty about the role he had played in her job relocation. He was worried about her, she knew. He had even called her up after a few days out there to ask her if she needed him to arrange for a plane to get her back home. She told him no, and he repeated the question to her again just to be sure, this time in a whispered tone, as if it would change her answer. He then asked her if she was being watched. She laughed and told him that even if she was, she wouldn’t have been able to tell him that. He was so paranoid, but at least he wasn’t too upset about the podcast’s delays.

Still, she needed to release the first episode of  _ The Burning Questions  _ at _ some _ point. The problem was living up to the podcast’s title. She couldn’t ask him her burning questions because she was acting like a coward, terrified of how he would respond to the more sensitive topics. She started to wonder how long EKPR was going to let her struggle before they inevitably shut down her show and forced her to go home, tail between her legs.

She reminded herself that today was not that day. She pulled herself out of her bed, packed up her bag, and made her way to the fire lord’s office, feet dragging. She felt a bit like a petulant child with how much she hated going to these meetings, but she couldn’t help it. There was nothing like meeting with the fire lord to make her feel like a royal failure. 

Their introduction went about like normal. She knocked on the door, he answered, and she gave him her customarily polite greeting. Sitting across from him, she unpacked her recorder and notebook while he appraised her. She had gotten used to these odd stares and silent moments. It was still creepy, obviously, but there was a limit on how long a person can stay scared before it just becomes the new normal. Those golden eyes boring into her own had became her new normal. 

Having unpacked all of her supplies, she pushed the recorder in between the two of them, and moved to hit record. Before she could press down on the button, she felt the fire lord’s hand on her own, “Hey,” he interjected, “Can we quickly talk? Off the record?”

“Yes?” She pulled her hand away. She didn’t care for that much. Nope.

“You are not comfortable here,” he stated plainly. 

“What? I’m comfortable here. You have all been more than gracious,” she nervously corrected. Obviously, she was uncomfortable there. That didn’t mean she wanted him to know about that.

“No, what I mean by this is... “ He ordered his thoughts, “I do not plan to listen to the podcast. I want you to be comfortable here. You can say and ask what you want. It is your podcast, not mine, after all.” 

It took Katara some time to work through what he was saying to her. It was embarrassing having him speak so openly about her reservations towards him. She also struggled to wrap her mind around his declaration of apathy towards her podcast. He had been watching her intently throughout every single one of these meetings, so how could he not care about what she was doing? 

“I didn’t mean to offend you--” She began. 

“No, you have not,” he struggled to explain, “And even if you did, that is alright. That is my point. You should not concern yourself with my opinion.” She watched him as he spoke. He sat forward in his chair, and punctuated his words with his hands excitedly. For all intents and purposes, he seemed sincere.  She supposed it could have been some kind of trap, but it just didn’t feel like one. Perhaps against her better judgement, Katara had the impression he was telling the truth. 

Maybe she had been misreading him this whole time. Maybe he wasn’t being malicious and instead, he was having just as much trouble communicating with her as she did with him, if not more. She sensed that it was more than just the language barrier that stood in their way. Making conversation just didn’t seem to be his strong suit. Perhaps that was why he was so difficult to read; he didn’t know how to act around people. With what little Katara understood of his personal history, he was probably just inexperienced. Maybe his bizarre behavior was a result of loneliness and a genuine desire to have someone to talk to. Admittedly, she wasn’t sure yet how she felt about the possibility of being that someone for him, but she at least felt better knowing that she was understanding him better. It was something to think about. 

“Okay” she nodded along encouragingly, “I can keep that in mind moving forward.”

He watched her for another long moment, and once he presumably decided that his point had gotten across to her, he nodded and moved to switch the recorder back on. This time it was Katara who interrupted him. 

“Wait, can I ask one more thing?” she posed. After he moved his hand away from the recorder and nodded, she continued, “You don’t have much to do around here, do you?”

“No,” he said, smiling now, “No, I don’t.” For the first time, his smile didn’t put her on edge. She understood it, and actually smiled back. 

“Okay,” he replied, still smiling, “I think we can start now,” and clicked the recorder back on. 

Everything was easier after that. With the air cleared they were able to have a productive meeting. They still had to ease their way into the harder conversations, of course, but she was able to get the fire lord to eventually disclose some of his family history. It turns out that he was born at a time when Fire Lord Azulon was still on the throne, and his uncle, Iroh, was the crown prince. Taking their previous conversation to heart, she decided to take the risk and ask him why the line of ascension skipped Prince Iroh and onto his father instead. Fire Lord Zuko showed no sign of wanting to shy away from the topic, and instead explained how the Iroh’s son had died tragically in battle years ago, and how that had caused a great rift in the family. 

The question of who would ascend to the throne troubled the family, particularly the then Crown Prince Iroh, who was now childless, and Ozai, who still had two able-bodied children to carry on the line through future generations. Not long after Lu Ten’s demise, Fire Lord Azulon also turned up dead, conceding in his will that it was the younger brother Ozai destined to ascend to the throne. Zuko didn’t need to say that there was reason to suspect foul-play for Katara to understand. Fire Lord Ozai got what he wanted.

She then asked him to tell her about his uncle. Prince Iroh bore few similarities to his younger brother, it turned out. Zuko characterized Iroh as being wise beyond his years, as a man who cared deeply for his family and had an unbending set of values. He even conceded that Iroh was someone who, given the general attitudes of the Fire Nation at the time, wouldn’t have been well suited for the crown. He was too good for it. 

“Do you think  _ you’re _ too good for the crown?” Katara chimed in.

He thought about that for a moment before responding, “I do not know. I don’t know if we will ever know.”

A quiet, but thoughtful silence hung in the air. She stopped the recorder. “That seems like as good of a place to stop as any,” she smiled. This was good. She could make an episode from this. He nodded and let her pack up. 

“Thank you for your time, Fire Lord Zuko. This was very helpful,” she emphasized, getting up. 

“You can just call me Zuko, if you would like.”

“Alright. Zuko it is,” she agreed. 

She left the meeting feeling exponentially better than she had felt walking in. 

Katara could draft the pilot episode of her podcast finally. It wasn’t exceptionally difficult, either. It felt oddly natural to talk into the microphone about the fire lord—er—Zuko. She walked her future listeners through her journey of understanding that his strange mannerisms weren’t an intimidation tactic at all, but were instead the result of something much sadder. A life of privacy and royalty had kept him isolated from the rest of the world, and now that he was in the spotlight, all he wanted to do was shy away from it, but he couldn’t. She didn’t imagine his family had been the best company growing up, Prince Iroh aside, and it didn’t seem like he got out much, seeing as how unaware the entire outside world had been of his existence. She explained some of his backstory, adding details regarding his late uncle. She finished out the podcast with the clip of Katara asking him if he was too good for the crown, and his response. Hopefully that would pique her listeners’ interests. She cleaned the audio up some and then forwarded the clip over to Cheng for revisions. Not too long after that the podcast was released. 

After a couple more meetings with Zuko, she was able to fully make up for those unsuccessful first few weeks, she even felt herself getting a little ahead of schedule. She revelled in the feeling. It was one thing she missed from  _ International Hour;  _ enjoying her job while being damn good at it. Those feelings were starting to come back to her and likewise, helped make her feel more like herself. 

Things were going so well, in fact, that when she wandered the palace on her day off and ran across Zuko sipping his tea out on the veranda, she felt confident enough to approach him. 

“Hey, do you mind the company?” She offered. 

He looked momentarily panicked, but nodded, gesturing for her to sit. 

“Do you come out here often?” 

“More so recently,” he told her, taking another long sip of his tea.

“It’s nice out here.”

“It is. I am going to miss it,” he looked at her like he was just realizing something, “I have not told you! I have to go to the Earth Kingdom next week. I have been invited to a meeting of politicians. That will be okay for your podcast if I miss a week?”

“Oh! Wow. Yeah, the summit. I heard about that! You’re going then? That’s a big deal.” Hakoda mentioned that he was going. He had excitedly told her about his trip to the Earth Kingdom and all about his plans to take the triplets to the zoo. Her dad had recently acquired soft spot for armadillo bears and wanted to spark the same passion in his grandchildren apparently. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into. The boys rarely sat still, and they’d most certainly see the zoo as a giant playground. She’d be surprised if he didn’t lose one of them by the time it was over. 

“Could I ask you for a favor, then?” she ventured, “Would you mind if I hitched a ride with you back to the Earth Kingdom? I’d love the chance to visit my family.” 

Zuko visibly chippered up. “Yes. I do not mind!”

Katara packed up her bags, gathered some souvenirs for her family, and before she knew it she was boarding Zuko’s private jet back to the Earth Kingdom. The plane itself looked brand new. Zuko was the first from the royal family to travel outside of the country’s borders in generations, excluding military pursuits, of course. She couldn’t help but be dazzled by the luxury of it all. It really put first class to shame. The entire plane had no more than a dozen seats, each of which turned into fully functional beds. A few of the ministers were chatting idly at the glowing bar in the back. She could get used to this. 

She hadn’t expected Zuko to save her a seat on the plane but he did. Right next to him. She took her seat and engaged in some light conversation while being served a glass of something fizzy in a champagne glass. The engines came on and they lifted off the ground. Zuko could have pulled off looking unbothered by the sensation of taking off if it hadn’t been for his hands clamping down hard on the armrests. She chuckled, looked out the window at the ground slowly disappearing into oblivion, and finished her drink. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko visits the Earth Kingdom!

They sat together on the plane. Conversation with Katara flowed easily now, even without the podcast to get them started. Zuko hoped she’d be there to guide him through the landing process, but his secret service whisked him away before he and Katara could share a proper goodbye.

“I’m going to get an Uber!” She called, before wheeling her suitcase away from his private security and disappearing into the enormous airport. Zuko had no idea what an “Uber” was.

He hoped to see the city on the way to the hotel, but he was squished in between two burly bodyguards who told him to keep his eyes forward every time he attempted to steal a glance out the window. The windows were tinted too dark for him to see much, anyway.

He had expected his first few hours in the Earth Kingdom to be busy, which he had to admit in retrospect was naïve. Once he was shut away in his hotel room, he found there was very little to do. The summit wasn’t for another few hours, so he spent some time reviewing his notes, but that grew boring very quickly. He’d memorized his speech before they’d even left the Fire Nation. He thought he might be allowed to walk around the city, seeing as there was nothing else to do. Some people he’d overheard in the hotel lobby were discussing a new tea shop they seemed to rather like. His request was denied. Maybe he’d try again once the summit was over with. He dragged a desk chair to the window and peered outside. For now, this was the closest he’d come to exploring Ba Sing Se.

Hours later he was stuffed into a suit that was somehow tailored to his exact measurements even though he’d never seen it before, his hair was roughly yanked back into its usual topknot, adorned with the gleaming royal hairpiece, and he found himself once again in the backseat of a car between two bodyguards. His car joined a procession of others as they all filed into the royal palace. Katara had mentioned something about the palace on the plane. It was a remnant of a time when the Earth Kingdom was still a monarchy, and since the transition to democracy necessitated a large, centrally located building with an assortment of conference rooms and office spaces, it just made sense to make use of what they already had at their disposal. The inside had been partially remodeled to accommodate the building’s new purpose. Zuko leaned over the guard to his left and looked out the window. Nobody stopped him, since they were no longer on the crowded public streets. The palace was, well, palatial. It had far more in common with Zuko’s Calderan home than he expected. The Earth Kingdom special ops he’d been working with the past few months had emphasized the merits of democracy over monarchy so heavily that he’d expected the seat of their government to be dull, utilitarian, and entirely lacking in style. Yet, the golden-roofed pagodas and emerald Earth emblems on the colossal walls before him were anything but. Upon seeing the hundreds of stairs leading up to the imposing entrance, Zuko felt profoundly relieved when the parade of cars began to circle around to a less conspicuous entrance in the back.

When the well-dressed politicians and their bodyguards began to disembark up ahead, Zuko was abruptly reminded that all of these people were here to see him. Ostensibly the summit was about the world’s new and precarious peace, but Zuko knew it was really meant to be his introduction. Nobody here had ever met him before, or anyone from the Fire Nation, probably, and they didn’t completely trust him. This was his chance to show that the Fire Nation was a respectable country, and its people were capable of behaving civilly in polite society. He hoped he didn’t fuck it up.

There was a seating chart, and he was to sit right between Prime Minister Kuei and Avatar Aang. He wasn’t acquainted with either, but he anticipated that they already didn’t like him. They had good reason, he supposed. He wanted desperately to take his seat and wait in silence for the summit to begin, but he’d been advised to do otherwise. “Introduce yourself,” they told him, “Smile, make small talk, seem approachable.” Approachable. Right. He inhaled deeply and began to scan the room for Prime Minister Kuei. He sort of knew what Kuei looked like. Hopefully he would have a nametag.

“Well if it isn’t the man of the hour! You must be Fire Lord Zuko,” a voice resounded from behind him, “I’m Prime Minister Kuei.” Zuko had already blown his first task. He was supposed to find Kuei, not the other way around.

He turned around and accepted Kuei’s outstretched hand.

“Yes, that’s me. You must be Prime Minister Kuei. Er, well. You said that already. Um, it is nice to meet you.” Fuck.

Kuei chuckled lightly. Zuko wanted to scowl at him. He smiled apologetically instead.

Thankfully, a hush fell over the room and everyone was corralled into place. The avatar took his seat beside him. A friendly expression spread across his wizened face. Zuko stared straight ahead as if he hadn’t noticed. People tended to assume he had poor peripheral vision on his left side anyhow.

Kuei kicked off the summit with some opening remarks, everyone around the table made their introductions, and then the time came for Zuko to deliver his speech. He did so. He spoke of his aspirations for peace, rebuilding the Fire Nation’s diplomatic relationships with the rest of the world, and leading the Fire Nation into the modern era. His fellow world leaders nodded approvingly as they listened, but Zuko couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching him like he was an exotic animal on display at the zoo. Fascinating and unpredictable.

To Zuko’s horror, the room did not disperse when the conference ended. Instead, people left their seats and floated about, socializing with whomever they encountered. He wasn’t told anything about an afterparty. A small bar he hadn’t noticed before opened up in the back of the room. Zuko decided that would be his first stop. He could do the rest of his networking with a glass of rice wine in his system.

“Hey there stranger,” Katara said by way of greeting. Wait. Katara? What was she doing here? Surely they wouldn’t have brought her along for his sake. They never did anything for his sake. He must’ve looked as dumbstruck as he felt, because Katara laughed.

She turned aside and tugged on the arm of a middle-aged man with the same tanned skin and blue eyes that she had. Zuko recognized the man to be Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe.

“Zuko, I want you to meet my dad.”

Hakoda waited expectantly, but Zuko only blinked at him.

“Your dad? I thought he was the chief of your tribe.” Why was everything so confusing? He was so far behind.

Katara and the chief exchanged glances, then they burst into laughter. For the second time that evening Zuko repressed the urge to scowl.

“Zuko, the chief _ is _ my dad,” Katara clarified, the echoes of laughter still present in her voice.

“Chief Hakoda. It’s a pleasure. Katara’s told me a lot about you,” Hakoda said, offering a handshake.

Zuko took it and stammered a hello. Why was he so awful at this?

Katara seemed to sense his discomfort.

“Were you headed to the bar? Cmon, I’ll go with you,” she offered, and then added to her father, “Dad, we’ll be back.”

“Okay, but at some point I wanted to talk about—”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll bring him back, I promise.”

_ Talk about what? _Zuko pondered as Katara led him over to the bar.

“So who’ve you met yet?” She queried while they waited on their drinks. Zuko recounted his terrible introduction with Kuei.

“That’s it? That’s not nearly as bad as you made it sound. Oh, hey! Have you met Avatar Aang yet? You really should,” she took a long sip of something amber colored and fragrant. Yes, he really should. He just really didn’t want to.

“He is going to despise me,” Zuko muttered.

“Why would he despise you? He doesn’t know you,” Katara pointed out reasonably.

“But I am the fire lord! What my people did to his people…”

“Yeah, I paid attention in freshman year history, thanks. He won’t hold that against you. He’s here to make peace, just like you are,” she paused and scanned the room. “Look! There he is. Go say hello. Just be yourself.”

“I really do not wish to—”

“Go!” She commanded, gently pushing between his shoulder blades.

“Katara!” He hissed through his teeth, but it was too late. The avatar noticed him.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” the old man addressed him, bowing reverently. Why would the avatar have any reverence for him? Zuko felt lightheaded. Maybe the rice wine was a bad idea.

In spite of his advanced age, Avatar Aang had a commanding presence. He was a sight to behold in his sunny yellow and orange robes in the sea of dark suits that surrounded him. He wore jewelry too, some chunky beads with tassels and swirling patterns carved into them. Zuko read somewhere that they were spiritually significant, though he couldn’t recall exactly why. The arrow tattoos were definitely significant. Mastery of airbending, Zuko was pretty sure. There were no physical indicators of his mastery of the other three elements, but there was no doubt that he had mastered them all long ago, before Zuko had even been born.

The avatar was quiet for someone with such a loud appearance. His was the kind of voice that didn’t carry because it didn’t need to. People hushed of their own accord when he spoke. He smiled warmly, like it didn’t bother him at all that Zuko was gawking at him like a moron.

Zuko collected himself and bowed in return. “Avatar Aang. It is an honor.”

“I must say, I’m very pleased that you’re here,” the avatar remarked. He was?

“Well, I am pleased to have been invited.”

He shook his wrinkled head, “No, that’s not what I mean. I’m pleased you’re here at all, in the Earth Kingdom. I’ve waited decades, through the regimes of three different fire lords, for just one of them to put aside their pride and come here in search of peace. It’s no small thing you’ve done today, Fire Lord Zuko. Just having you here gives my old heart some hope.”

“Oh. I, uh… Thank you. Really.”

He flashed his kindly grin again and headed toward the bar.

“Can’t have liquor, of course, Temple rules. But the bar here makes this lychee soda thing I’ve always been fond of,” he explained with a twinkle of humor as he strode away. Something about his gait made it look slightly like he was floating instead of walking. Maybe he was floating, for all Zuko knew. His robes reached the floor and Zuko didn’t have the first clue how airbending worked. 

Katara materialized at his side.

“So it’s true he has a sweet tooth. And see? I told you he doesn’t hate you,” she smirked.

“Yes, I suppose not…” Zuko concurred, still occupied watching the elderly man weave his way through the crowd. Eventually he tore his eyes away from Avatar Aang and refocused his attention on Katara. “You are a political correspondent. You know all of these people?”

She shrugged, “Most of them. Even if I haven’t directly met them all, I know them through reputation. Want me to give you some insider information?”

They walked along the perimeter of the room, drinks in hand. Katara subtly pointed out various individuals and divulged whatever she knew about them. Zuko listened raptly. He was tired of not knowing things.

Bumi, the mayor of Omashu, was rumored to be crazy. Yet, his city consistently had one of the best and most stable economies in the Earth Kingdom, so he must be doing something right. A man who kept giving Zuko a mistrustful glare was revealed to be General How. What with his military involvement, it made some sense. Zuko learned that Kuei had some turbulent history with his deputy prime minister, Long Feng. Supposedly Long Feng, a man with a thin moustache and snake-like eyes, had dangerous ambitions that extended beyond being anyone’s deputy.

“Who are they?” Zuko whispered, as a richly dressed older couple meandered past.

“Lao and Poppy Beifong,” Katara whispered back. “They’re related to the royal family, like second cousins or something. They have a daughter around our age. She’s got a large social media presence.”

“Royal family? I thought the Earth Kingdom did not have one?”

“No, we do. Just like we still have a palace. They’re direct descendants of the historical royal family, they just don’t have any political power anymore. But they still have the fame and money.”

“But they do not do anything? Why then do they get paid?” Just when Zuko thought the Earth Kingdom couldn’t get any more complicated, it did.

“They don’t get paid, so much as they live off old family money. Plus they make money through property investments and their personal brands and what not.”

“That is… deeply confusing.”

She snickered. “Yeah. It is.”

They quit gossiping and returned to the party. Zuko made a few more introductions and rubbed a few more elbows when Katara’s father flagged him down.

“Fire Lord Zuko! I wondered if I might talk to you about a political situation I’m dealing with in the Southern Water Tribe.”

As Chief Hakoda explained the blossoming independence movement in his tribe, as well as the tense history with its sister tribe that led to the situation, Zuko couldn’t fathom what it had to do with him. The northern and southern tribes had merged in the first place for safety against the Fire Nation, so perhaps the chief was angry with him? Perhaps he was demanding reparations?

“I’ve been hesitant to declare my stance either way. You see, my tribe doesn’t have enough international allies to sustain a war against the North, if it comes to that. The Earth Kingdom would side with Chief Arnook, no question, and as you know, the Air Temples tend to remain neutral in most matters…” Hakoda continued, keeping his voice low. Most of the people in his story were standing in that very room.

“You want me to support you,” Zuko stated. The chief’s entreaty was suddenly making sense.

Hakoda took a deep breath. “Well, yes. With support from the Fire Nation, the Southern Water Tribe might finally have the international backing it needs to separate from its northern sister.”

“And if we go to war, that means I would fight for you.”

“_With _ me. My people. Yes. And it probably wouldn’t even come to that, not if you’re on my side. The threat of Fire Nation military power is likely sufficient to keep an actual war from breaking out,” Hakoda insisted.

“And if it is not?” It was dawning on Zuko that he had the upper hand in the conversation, for once.

The chief let out a sigh.

“I’m asking for a favor, here, Your Highness. There’s no obligation to say yes.”

But Zuko didn’t say no, either. He asked for more information. How it would work, the timeframe, what would be expected of him, the possible outcomes… Hakoda struck him as both passionate and sincere. Zuko knew first hand what it was like to bend to the will of a foreign power, to bide their laws and commands, all the while maintaining a laughable farce of a government when everyone knew the truth. He knew what it was like to have his voice stolen from him. Perhaps he and the chief could be of service to each other.

In the end Zuko agreed. The Fire Nation and the Southern Water Tribe would forge an alliance. They chose not to announce it immediately. They still needed to consult with their respective advisors and subordinates, and iron out any remaining details. They exchanged contact information and promised to be in touch. Zuko left the party feeling giddy. This was the first major decision of his reign that was truly his. He would demonstrate to the entire world that he could command his own nation and support a worthy cause at the same time. It wasn’t unusual that Zuko went to sleep thinking of the future, but this was the first time he actually felt optimistic about it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what’s up with Azula these days?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Violence, (mild) gore, mental illness

It was too bright. They never turned off the lights, not even when she was sleeping. They were trying to mess with her internal clock, clearly, but it wouldn’t work. Firebenders rise with the sun, didn’t they know that? Her inner flame was an extension of the sun itself, and her connection to it could never be severed. She was tempted to count the days, but that felt like a betrayal. After all, why should she have anything but the utmost faith in her father? It didn’t matter how long he took. He had never failed her before. He had never failed, period. Failure was for the weak.

Speaking of weak, she wondered where Zuzu was right now. She liked to imagine him rotting a cell much like her own, but she heard something about him being taken to the Earth Kingdom. Although, she couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t in the Earth Kingdom too. It would make sense. They would want to separate her from her homeland, from her father, from the sun, and from anything else that gave her power. But her power came from within. They couldn’t take that.

“Dinnertime, inmate,” a guard called to her. Earth Tongue, obviously. Her time incarcerated had been something of an intensive review of her language lessons from the academy. Slowly but surely her vocabulary was coming back to her. It was mostly words pertaining to her current, highly specific situation, but still. The guard’s hand hovered on the metal that covered the slot in the door. He hesitated. “You’re not going to try and kill me this time, are you?”

Azula croaked out a dry laugh. It was true; she had tried to kill him last time. It was only because he kept feeding her lies. All of them did. Horrible, terrible falsehoods intended to break her spirit.

“Your father and uncle were assassinated in the raid. They can’t come save you,” the guards would taunt her. The bit about Uncle she believed. The old fool probably stood there with his hands up when they kicked down his door. He probably made it easy for them. But Father? No. He would have put up a fight, and some fight it must’ve been. His firebending talent was unmatched. Even if they had managed to capture him (it wasn’t impossible, seeing as they’d captured her), he must be alive somewhere. He was too important to be snuffed out like a candle flame. They were keeping him from her, but she would find him, and together they would exact their revenge on these wretched people and their wretched country.

She rose lazily from the floor and stared at the guard through the wired glass.

“No. Not this time.”

He probably didn’t believe her, which was clever, as she felt that she owed these people nothing, least of all the truth. Nevertheless he opened the slot, shoved though it a plastic tray, and shut it just as quickly. Azula took the tray. She smiled at the guard before retreating back to her bed. The guards found her smile unnerving. She figured that out within her first few days here. Naturally, once she had learned that, she smiled at them every now and then just to keep them on their toes.

The food here was disgusting, and entirely unbefitting of a princess. She’d complained about it once, but they only laughed in her face. It didn’t matter. Once she got out of here, she would give them what was coming to them. Until then she just needed to keep a running list of all their sins so that she could make them pay accordingly. That, and concentrate on finding her father.

She picked at the food anyway. Flavorless congee that was jiggled unappetizingly when she struck it with her spoon. Dry, crumbling bao filled with something she supposed was meat. Tepid water. Disgusting. Still, it was important to keep up her strength. She was of no use to anyone if she was frail.

Her second day here she caused someone to go blind. She heard them talking about it outside her cell. It took three of them to wrestle her in here, and that was with her hands tied. They managed to throw her into the room, but hadn’t realized she’d freed her hands. When she bent the lightning, one of them stood guard outside the door, another was lurking in the corner of the room, and the third was right beside her. That was the one who went blind. The idiot had been standing all too close, and hadn’t the faintest clue to avert her eyes when the lightning struck. Azula considered the incident to be a major point of pride.

Since then, they took better care not to underestimate her. But even their best wasn’t good enough. A week later she escaped. They sent another of their henchmen to bring her morning meal, and she grabbed the man’s arm through the slot in the door. Then, once her grip was nice and tight, and her nails dug so deeply into his flesh that they drew blood, she began to burn him. Slowly at first, so she could watch the panic in his beryl colored eyes when he realized what was happening, then quickly. He yelped, but it was enough time for Azula to grab the handle through the slot. She pushed the door ajar with all of her bodyweight and ran. She ran and ran. She skidded around corners, passed other cells, making sure to peer into each one before moving on, but she never found what she was looking for.

They cornered her at the end of the cellblock, when she had almost made it to the stairwell. She would have made it farther if they hadn’t kept the stairwell locked. Three pairs of rock gloves hit her almost simultaneously. She only fell to the floor after they kicked her down. She hadn’t been disappointed that they’d caught her. She was disappointed that she was still no closer to finding her father than she’d been before.

_ Fire Lord Zuko._ That was a phrase she overheard a couple times. The first time she heard it, she actually laughed, prompting a guard to pound on her door and tell her to shut up. She couldn’t help it, though. It was just so funny. Who would make Zuzu fire lord? Even these rockheads weren’t that stupid. She couldn’t decide which was more entertaining: the notion itself, or the fact that the guards were going this far to toy with her. It wasn’t enough to tell her that her father was dead, apparently. They had to whisper strategically outside her door. She knew that they knew that she would overhear it. They had to come up with fantastical tales about her lonely, awkward brother wearing the most honorable crown in the world. These wiley earthbenders had a sense of humor.

Sometimes she dared wonder if her father really was dead. Then that honorable crown would be hers, at least. She always knew she was destined for it, just not so soon. She would be glorious, of course, in her time. But now it was her father’s time, and he too was glorious. She couldn’t take that away from him. She was loyal. She was the good child.

_ He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead! _ Once she awoke from a night terror so vivid that she’d screamed herself into consciousness. It was only a nightmare. Yes. She was pretty sure of that. The men with guns, the alarm that they swiftly disabled… no, that really happened. That’s why she was here. They’d dislocated her shoulder when they pulled her from her bedroom. It still ached when she slept on the wrong side. She’d heard gunshots, but… it was a trick. They were trying to frighten her into submission. If they wanted her father dead, they’d have to kill her too.

Other times, it felt like it happened more than once, the raid. Little things changed, each time around. Once she saw her father die. He was lying still in his bed, arms folded in front of him, postured relaxed. He might’ve been taking a nap were it not for his head, which was fractured into several gory chunks, and his eyes, which were still hauntingly open.

_ That _ had been a dream. She knew it. If she really had watched her father die, the image would replay every night, every time she closed her eyes, and even every time she had nothing more engaging to stare at than a flat monotonous surface. She lived in a concrete box. Flat monotonous surfaces occupied a large portion of her waking hours.

Eventually they’d reduced her to reasoning with them. This will be a PR disaster, she explained. It was an embarrassment to the royal family. What would the millions of devoted citizens who had cried tears of sorrow at her grandfather’s funeral, tears of joy at her parents’ wedding, and tears of awe at her father’s coronation think when they heard that their crown princess was held captive in such deplorable conditions? She was ignored.

One day she heard the click of stiletto heels coming down the hall. She would recognize that sound anywhere. She used to wear stilettos nearly everyday. She loved that sound. Crisp and authoritative.

The guards obviously didn’t wear stilettos. Neither did her father. No one in shoes like that could have any business with her, not anymore. But the footsteps came to a halt outside her cell.

“This is the one?” Inquired a feminine voice.

“This is the one,” replied the guard. “Careful, she’s volatile.”

Azula smiled to herself. Yes, she was volatile.

There was a knock, then the feminine voice again. Fire Tongue, this time. “Princess Azula, can you hear me? I’m your lawyer, Ruomei. I’m going to open the door now and I need you to behave, okay?”

A lawyer, huh? Azula didn’t remember requesting a lawyer. She remained silent, but the lawyer woman was persistent.

“Your Highness, I strongly advise that you let me come in and talk to you. I’m trying to help you. If you listen to me, then there’s a chance you could be going home one day.”

“…Very well.”

Azula was handcuffed through the slot, and then the ponderous door creaked open. The neatly dressed woman and the guard who accompanied her stepped inside. The woman offered a manicured hand, which Azula stared at spitefully.

“I’m in handcuffs, dummy.”

The woman shot her a tight smile. “Right. Well I’m Ruomei Tan. The Elemental Human Rights Commission appointed me to your case. I’m here to talk about the charges against you, and the options you might have. Are you aware of the charges against you?”

The woman—Ruomei—wore a well-tailored blazer and pencil skirt. Her lips were painted a deep crimson. Her eyeliner was tasteful and flawless. It was like the Elemental Human Rights Commission was sending Azula an off-brand version of her former self to represent her in court. These earthbenders really did have a sense of humor.

When Azula failed to reply, Ruomei only barely repressed an eye-roll. “Okay then.” She lifted her right arm in a forceful, jabbing motion. Two concrete stools and a small table emerged out of the floor. “Have a seat, Princess. I’m your counsel whether you like it or not, and you might as well listen to what I have to say. Additional information couldn’t possibly hurt you, right?”

Azula sat, keeping her eyes narrowed on her lawyer. 

“I thought I was in trouble with the Elemental Human Rights Commission. Why are they sending me a lawyer?”

Ruomei scoffed. “Oh, believe me, you’re in a world of trouble. But you’re human too, and you have a right to decent representation.”

Azula tilted her head. “Only decent?”

“Decent. I happen to be one of the best, but that’s just luck. You’re not entitled to me, Princess. I’d advise you not to forget that,” Ruomei quipped. She leaned forward on her stool, keeping her gaze level with Azula’s. She had predatory eyes.

“Why do you speak Fire Tongue?”

Ruomei crossed her arms.

“I’m a lawyer who specializes in international human rights violations. Your country is the biggest offender.”

“But you’re defending me,” Azula pressed.

“Yeah. If you cooperate. Now let’s go over your rights.”

So they did. They went over the charges too. According to Ruomei, Azula’s situation “wasn’t looking good.” Together, she and her father had violated thirty-nine laws enumerated in four sections of the charter of the International Peacekeeping Council, of which the Elemental Human Rights Commission was a subsect. Allegedly, that is. Ruomei raised a skeptical eyebrow at Azula for that last part.

“I know I just threw a bunch of legal jargon at you, and not all of it translates exactly. Do you more or less understand what I just told you?”

Azula disliked Ruomei condescending to her, but she didn’t understand at all. How did these people have any right to do any of this to her? 

“There’s been a mistake,” Azula insisted, swatting Ruomei’s papers away. “The Fire Nation doesn’t abide by these laws.”

To Ruomei’s credit, she didn’t react. She only explained patiently, “Your Highness, these laws are international. Everyone abides by them.”

“I don’t.”

“Princess,” Ruomei released a dainty exhale that probably would have been an exasperated sigh if she were any less composed. “When the Fire Nation fell to the Earth Kingdom, you and your entire family lost your ability to choose not to abide by international laws any longer.”

“I never agreed to those laws! Nobody in my country ever has! We’re not a part of your stupid International Peacekeeping Council,” Azula snarled. 

Ruomei leaned back. She donned an irritatingly smug expression.

“Actually, your brother did.”

“Zuzu’s an idiot.”

“‘Zuzu’ is the fire lord,” she countered, air quotes and all.

“He’s not… Is he?” Azula faltered. Ruomei nodded.

“Well if that’s even true, then the Fire Nation should be grandfathered in. Our way of life has excluded your trifling laws for generations,” Azula spat. Ruomei pressed her palm to her forehead.

“Human rights violations… don’t work that way.”

A tense moment passed. Finally Ruomei broke the silence first. (Azula’s incarceration had at the very least taught her to grow accustomed to long stretches of silence).

“Princess, you don’t have many choices here. The allegations against you are serious and there’s a good deal of evidence to support them. You cannot plead not guilty, not if you want to win this. They _ will _ find you guilty of most if not all of these crimes, but what you might be able to do is prove you were dealing with extenuating circumstances.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Ruomei started to speak, then paused. Then she spoke again.

“What was your relationship with your father like? Were you close?”

“Excuse me? What does that have to do with my trial?” Azula snapped.

“Just answer the question, Princess.”

“We _ are _ very close.”

“Were. Your father is deceased,” Ruomei corrected patiently.

“You’re LYING!” Azula roared, twin jets of blue flame erupting from both her fists. The guard earthbent a slab of concrete between Azula and her lawyer until the fire dissipated, then had her subdued in seconds. Tears of rage pricked her eyes. She spat in the direction of Ruomei’s glossy stilettos.

Ruomei, incredibly, looked unfazed. She gathered her papers, most of which hadn’t been scorched thanks to the guard’s quick intervention, and stood over Azula as she was being restrained.

“Princess, if we can prove that your father manipulated you into helping him commit these violations, that very well might be the way you avoid the death penalty. Just think about it, alright?”

_ Manipulated! _ Father would never. Azula would absolutely not ‘just think about it.’

The guard had Azula’s head pressed against the cold floor. She watched Ruomei’s heels exit the room sideways.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko attempts to have fun

Katara always found breakfast at Sokka’s to be an ambitious endeavor. In this specific scenario, Sokka was trying (and failing) to flip pancakes with pitifully disjointed wrist flicks. Meanwhile, Suki paced about the kitchen, reciting a presentation she was giving to the board for the Kyoshi Warriors the following Monday. Between both of their legs weaved the triplets, sliding haphazardly across the linoleum. Kaskae and Wei ran, dressed only in their pull-ups. Not far behind was Arluk, completely naked, brandishing some sort of brown substance. With impeccable timing, they bumped past Sokka as he attempted yet another flip of the pancake, only to have the pancake land not only outside of the pan but instead onto Kaskae’s head with a wet thud. With everyone else frozen in horror, Arluk took this as an opportunity to rub some of the aforementioned brown goop on Kaskae’s chest with an infantile grunt. 

Sokka laughed, Suki rolled her eyes, and Katara looked on with mild horror from her refuge near the coffee pot. Hakoda came into the room at that exact moment, looked at all of them, and let out an uproarious laugh. As if it couldn’t get worse, he pulled off a bit of pancake from Kaskae and took a bite. Hakoda then gathered the toddlers in his arms, ignoring the various substances smeared across them, and proclaimed that it was time to go to the zoo.

Despite her current state of horror, Katara was honestly glad to have come back. In order to get her job in the Fire Nation done, to a certain extent she had to block her family out and push down her homesickness. This little vacation served as a nice release of that tension that had made a permanent home in her gut. She had forgotten how easy things were with her family. She could finally relax. Even though she and Zuko had come to a sort-of mutual understanding, that didn’t mean that everything in the Fire Nation had become easier; it was still very foreign. Wandering about the Caldera, she always worried about who was looking at her, or if she was doing something offensive to Fire Nation customs. It could be exhausting.

She figured it was the opposite situation Zuko. The Earth Kingdom put him on edge, not that he wasn’t always on edge, honestly, but showing up at the home of the people who had killed his family for a party must have caused some record-high stress. It wasn’t like Zuko could fade into the background either. The reason why last night held such historical significance was because of his attendance. She felt bad for him, being shuffled around all day long, forced to kowtow to an outside government. Her dad had to do the same, but at least he still had his family to take off the edge. Zuko could use a break. 

That was why last night when Zuko asked her if she any extra time today to show him around the city, she quickly acquiesced. The city had a lot to offer and she didn’t feel right letting Zuko return home without seeing any of the fun parts of it. Plus, for as much love she had for her family, she could honestly use a couple hours break. 

Walking over to his hotel, she had the time to reflect on how last night had gone and start planning what she was going to say in the upcoming podcast. For all the excitement, the party had gone just about as expected. Zuko stumbled through forced talks with the ambassadors and world leaders. Katara spent some time with him, and had the chance to flex her muscles a bit by showing off her political know-how. Her dad even got the chance to talk to Zuko and made some progress on independence movement. There was hope for the Southern Water Tribe yet. It was a big move for Zuko, agreeing with her father. The Earth Kingdom wouldn’t like it, Zuko had to know. Still, he agreed. The boy had some chops, she’d give him that. 

Upon arriving at the hotel, she knocked on the door. Opening the door, Zuko smiled at her and asked if she was ready. Katara didn’t answer because she was stuck staring at what he was wearing. She was accustomed to Zuko dressed in his Fire Nation finery, and so it came as a bit of a shock to see him dressed in what he probably thought to be casual Earth Kingdom streetwear. She had no idea where he got his hands on the outfit, but honestly, it didn’t matter. He just looked weird. Maybe it was because she wasn’t used to seeing him dressed like a normal person or maybe it was because the clothes looked like they came from a hacky gift shop down the street. Trying not to make him self-conscious, she stopped her staring and smiled back, “Shall we?” 

Walking out of the hotel and into the street he explained that he thought changing clothes might protect him from recognition. Not wanting to step on his dreams of fitting in by pointing out that his scar made him pretty recognizable, she agreed with him. Guiding him to the nearest train, she then explained that she sold her car when she moved to the Fire Nation so they would need to use public transportation. If he had a problem with that, he didn’t say it. 

Loading onto the train car, Katara cringed. The grime-covered train seats had clearly seen better days. Homeless people slept across some of the benches. She used to use public transportation on a daily basis in her undergraduate days, so she was used to it, but having an outsider (an outsider born and raised in a palace no less) with her made her cheeks flush. She tried to instead focus on the more positive history of the train. Holding onto one of the overhead handles she leaned close to him to explain that the trains had been around for hundreds of years. In the earlier days, earthbenders powered the trains, pushing them across town for hours on end, she told him. Once technology caught up, the entire system transitioned to electric power. There still was a train that ran through the center of town that an earthbender ran, but that was more of a tourist trap than anything. He watched her explain avidly.

After her little history lesson, they stood in silence, watching the city flash by. Katara debated about what parts of the city would be best to show him. Ba Sing Se was so large. Some even advocated that the city was large enough to be considered a small country. She wanted to show him some of the best that the city had to offer, but didn’t want to spend too much time at the tourist traps. She knew that it would also be best to start on the outer rings and work her way back towards the city. 

After making her decision, she started her tour. They visited the Wall, the Agrarian Zone, and even made it out to Full Moon Bay. They then slowly made their way back via train, only stopping when something caught Zuko’s eye. 

Finally, upon making it back to the upper ring, Katara showed him the crystal catacombs, and some of the more famous government buildings. Walking around the city center, they passed the National Gallery of Art and Zuko paused. Katara, stopped, realizing that Zuko had stopped a couple of feet back. “Could we go in here?” he asked. 

“Oh. Sure, yeah!” Katara didn’t have anything against the Art Museum, she just didn’t expect that it would catch his attention. They went inside. Being a Saturday night, the museum was mostly cleared out, shrouding them in a contemplative silence as they passed by piece after piece. Some of the more famous works Katara recognized and offered Zuko some background on.

“And oh! This one is _Scenes along the_ _East and West Lakes_ by Dong Yuan. The lakes are here, in Ba Sing Se. We passed by them, remember?”

Katara went along, chattering about each piece she had learned about in some art history class she took years ago. Zuko nodded along politely while she explained the pieces to him. 

“And oh! I might know this one. It’s–”

“_Fisherman in Reclusion Among Mountains and Streams_. It’s Tang Yin,” Zuko murmured reverently, looking up at the piece. 

“Yeah, you’re familiar?” 

He nodded. “It is from the Jang Hui village, yes?” She checked the description and sure enough, it was. Who would have guessed that he knew about art history? She felt a little embarrassed that she had been bragging about all of the pieces she was familiar with when he might have known just as much and opted to politely let her explain them all to her again. 

They walked out of the museum and Katara could tell Zuko was feeling contemplative. Walking down the steps and into the street, he put his hands in his pockets and piped up, “I think I like Ba Sing Se.”

Katara couldn’t help but smile at that, “Yeah? Good! You think you’re up for one last stop before we head home? We could go to my favorite tea shop.”

“I do enjoy a good cup of tea,” he conceded.

“Great! C’mon then! It’s close by.”

The two of them headed to a heavily populated boba shop. The walls had been painted in bright pastels, and a neon sign on the back wall spelled out the word “boba” in fluorescent pink. Katara thought this place was a little bougie, but she couldn’t help but love it. Right across from Ba Sing Se University, this was where she spent most of her time writing her thesis senior year. She ordered her usual, a winter melon smoothie with boba and lychee poppers. He ordered jasmine, and after some prodding, ordered boba in his drink as well. 

She watched him expectantly as he took his first sip. Surprise splashed across his face when he reached the first boba pearl. After some overloud chewing, he nodded happily back at her, “It is good!” 

“Yay!” she enthused and clinked her cup with his before putting the straw up to her mouth and taking a large gulp herself. 

“Did we see most of the Earth Kingdom today? It is quite large.”

She nearly choked on her drink and then laughed, “No! No. We didn’t even leave the city. The Earth Kingdom is much much bigger than just the city.” Zuko tried to look like he understood, but clearly was trying to wrap his head around the size of the country. “Don’t worry. I haven’t seen a whole lot outside of Ba Sing Se either,” she explained. 

“Huh.” was all he responded with before going back to enjoying his tea. 

The two of them chattered on for as long as they felt was appropriate before making their leave and taking the train back. Zuko’s stop was earlier than hers was so once they reached the station, she gave him rushed directions for how to get back to the hotel, embraced in an awkward side hug, and pushed him out of the train. She watched Zuko stumble about the station, disoriented for a moment, before heading in the right direction. What a peculiar man, Katara thought. She made a mental note to call his hotel room once she got home to verify that he made it in safely.

The two of them were set to fly back to the Fire Nation first thing in the morning, so she made sure to head home directly after that and made quick work of setting up her bed on Sokka’s couch. Laying down, her feet pulsated from all the walking that she did that day. She didn’t mind. Seeing the Earth Kingdom from an outsider’s perspective was refreshing. She found Zuko’s childish intrigue towards the Earth Kingdom oddly charming and sweet. She hoped to come back to the Earth Kingdom again soon, and maybe she could again take Zuko along with her. 

\--------

“My Lord, there is a visitor requesting an audience with you,” one of his staff informed him just as he arrived at his office. He felt a little ambushed.

“Um, okay. Send them in.”

The staff member nodded and shuffled down the hallway, leaving Zuko with a few minutes alone to prepare for whoever this visitor was and whatever they wanted. Zuko had never liked surprises. In his experience, they never brought anything good. 

Moments later the mystery visitor appeared.

“Hi, Zuko. Can I still call you that, or would you like me to address you as ‘My Lord’ from now on?”

It was Mai.

“No! Uh, of course not. Just Zuko is fine. We’re friends, right? What happened doesn’t change that,” he blustered out his reply and smiled weakly at her.

But Mai iced over. She crossed her bony arms and made towards him.

“Are we? Because you certainly haven’t been acting like it,” she shot at him.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Oh yeah. You’ve been really busy. Between hanging out with your new journalist friend and taking vacations in Ba Sing Se, I’m surprised you even had time to see me today,” she drawled.

“Mai…” Zuko pleaded. He’d been happy to see her, at first. Apparently she didn’t return the sentiment.

“You know what? Save it. I get it. You’re a big shot fire lord now, and you just don’t have time for your childhood friends,” Zuko tried to object, but a wave of her talon-like nails in his direction shushed him. She continued, “And I can handle that. I’m a big girl, you know. But I’m not here about me.”

Zuko stayed silent. She was tempestuous, and it was best not to interrupt her when she got like this.

Evidently that was wrong. When he didn’t respond, Mai rolled her eyes in a gesture of exasperation.

“You really can’t guess? I’m talking about Azula. She’s in some Earth Kingdom prison somewhere, facing a potential death sentence, and you’re… what? Drinking sake with the prime minister? Going to the museum with your Water Tribe friend?”

He didn’t know how she knew about that. He didn’t ask.

“I haven’t forgotten about Azula! I’m doing everything I can to get her back, you know!”

“Is that so? Because it seriously doesn’t seem that way. She’s…” Mai’s face scrunched up, like she was struggling to place her words, “She’s not _ normal _, you know? Azula needs help. She won’t conduct herself gracefully in a situation like the one she’s in.”

Everyone who knew her knew it, but it was still weird to hear Mai acknowledge it verbally. Azula had been showing cracks for years. She took up her duties as Crown Princess with a bit too much zeal. Her enthusiasm for firebending edged toward brutality. Her smile was ever so slightly unhinged.

Their father always enabled her. Where other people saw crazy, he saw his own personal secret weapon, ready to be unleashed on his enemies whenever the need might have arisen.

Right now, the best thing Azula could do for herself was to defer to her captors and stay out of trouble. She was mostly definitely doing anything but that.

“I’m trying, okay? I am,” Zuko urged, looking her firmly in the eyes. “I won’t let them kill her.”

He couldn’t tell if she believed him, but he must have mollified her somewhat.

“Yeah. Just… don’t stop trying, alright? She needs you.”

She left the room, providing a ridiculous flourish of a curtsey on the way out.

“_My Lord_,” she sneered. Then she was gone.

Zuko slumped down in his desk chair. He let the chair drift in a lazy circle. He’d lied through his teeth to Mai, and even worse, Azula had hardly crossed his mind since that fateful night several months ago. He was just so busy with everything going on…

Enough excuses. Terrible sister or not, Azula didn’t deserve to die in prison. He wouldn’t forget about her again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People actually listen to Katara’s podcast, right? Let’s hear from her listeners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is having a good holiday season!

It was 9am on a Thursday morning in Ba Sing Se and the city vibrated with the energy of the newly birthed day under a snow blasted sky. A layer of fog settled overhead, giving the city a sort of glowing appearance from a distance. The freeway was locked in bumper to bumper traffic because of each driver’s inexperience in driving in such frigid conditions. Still, the passengers waited out the traffic, and used the valuable time to get prepared for the start of a new day. Some thrummed on the steering wheel while staring blankly out the window. Others went about doing their makeup in the rearview mirror or untangling matted hair with a comb normally stored in the glovebox. Each one was different, each heading towards different destinations for a hard day’s work. Yet an alarming number of them had something in common. Something they were all listening to. 

_ Good morning, my name is Katara, and you’re listening to The Burning Questions. Stay Tuned. _

Suki delicately balanced a mug of coffee between her knees and turned the volume up, all the while humming to herself.

This was a little ritual of hers, listening to Katara’s podcast every week on her way to work. It didn’t replace the girls nights she use to have with her sister-in-law, but it was a passable second best. It was nice hearing Katara, even if it was in this way. It felt like her. She didn’t hold back on her smart commentary, remaining unwaveringly thoughtful and brutally honest. It was what her listeners loved about her. Shoot, it was what Suki loved about her. You could always trust her to listen when you needed, and offer her own opinion in a way that was honest, but never made you feel bad. It was a good trait for a best friend.

Believe it or not, she’d known Katara far longer than she had known Sokka. It was her first day of undergrad at BSSU when she pushed open the door to her dormitory and met Katara, unpacking her side of the room.

They were a good duo. Katara needed someone to remind her to let loose every once and awhile, and Suki needed someone to help keep her focused on her studies. Their friendship was bonded in the flames of late-night brownie baking and 90’s sitcom binging.

Which was why it was awkward when Suki realized that she had developed a bit of a crush on Katara’s older brother. He was a sophomore, and spent a good amount of time in their dorm hanging out with Katara. At first Suki found him annoying, but he slowly wore her down, and she was begrudgingly charmed. She couldn’t help it and the next thing she knew the two of them were making out on a couch at a house party. 

Katara found out, of course, and although it took some time, she eventually came around to the idea. Years later when Sokka proposed, she gushed about how excited she was to have Suki as an official part of the family. Likewise, Suki couldn’t wait to have a sister.

She really missed Katara. 

It did help that the podcast was actually good. She didn’t care about politics as much as Katara did, but still. The Fire Nation was one of the world’s greatest mysteries and Katara was out there cracking it like the boss Suki knew she was. She wasn’t the only one who thought it was worthwhile, either. The podcast became a bit of a cultural sensation. It felt like overnight everyone was listening to it.  _ International Hour _ was popular, sure, but this was a viral sensation. People who liked podcasts listened to  _ International Hour,  _ but everyone listened to  _ The Burning Questions. _ It was just that morning when she bought her coffee that she walked by a group of college kids chattering excitedly about how this week’s episode was going to be about the Earth Kingdom party. One of them even bragged about having seen Katara and the fire lord in a tea shop during their trip. She doubted it. Still, everyone wanted to catch a glimpse at the mysterious foreign leader and Katara. It was weird hearing the two of them grouped together link that. Who would have thought? Here was the powerful fire lord, the leader of a country that had successfully evaded the Earth Kingdom up until now, and the next name to roll off of people’s tongues when they spoke of him was none other than her sister-in-law’s.

She always knew that Katara was going places but c’mon. She didn’t have  _ this  _ in mind. 

\---------

_ Roll up your sleeves because we’re back from the break and ready to get right back into it. We’re going to jump right into why the Annual International Summit was both an underwhelming and unprecedented event...  _

Cheng’s coffee was getting cold. It was looking quite sad, really. It had already started to form that thin film on the top, the kind that if you were to drink, would stick to your lip in an entirely unpleasant way. The coffee was inevitably destined to get poured down the sink at the end of the day, just like it would every Thursday. 

Cheng disregarded it so that he could give his undivided attention to Katara’s podcast. He had a split desktop set-up, one half with spotify pulled up so he could stream the podcast, and the other half gave him live listenership stats. Like clockwork, Katara’s podcast broke their weekly record of listens. It was trending number one on all the charts, and not just at EKPR, but across all stations. 

It was a smashing success. He should have expected it. It was a formula for success. Add Katara to any project and it will do well, but add her to  _ this  _ project and it would effectively break the internet. 

His bosses should be ecstatic, and they would be, if their other politics podcasts weren’t falling behind so royally.  _ This Earth Kingdom Life _ was charting about average right now. Not as many new listeners as they would like.  _ International Hour _ was well… well, it was tanking. The whole thing about how Katara was an ingredient for success wherever you put her? The same thing was true in the opposite direction. Without Katara,  _ International Hour _ was as good as dead. 

EKPR hired the new  _ International Hour _ host not long after she left. His name was Hong. He wasn’t nearly as good of company as Katara was. Turned out he wasn’t as good at his job as Katara was either. At least, that’s what the viewers thought and Cheng privately agreed. He had hoped that whoever EKPR hired as a replacement host would be able to do the bare minimum requirement of self-regulation without him having to intervene too often. That wasn't the case either and more often than not, Cheng had to remind Hong to get back on task or they’d miss their deadline. 

Hong had the personality of one of those talk shows hosts that even the network knows is obnoxious and gives the air-time of somewhere in the ballpark of three in the morning. Even those talk show hosts have some level of charisma, and Cheng hoped he would use it for good, Also no. Rather, instead of working on the podcast, you know, like he was paid to do, he would take extended breaks to entertain (mostly empty) break-rooms with impromptu soliloquies about his own greatness. Long story short, Cheng kept his office door shut much more often now-a-days. 

No matter how hard EKPR tried, they couldn’t duplicate the magic of Katara’s new podcast. Cheng could admit defeat much earlier than the company executives, and instead of trying to throw new ideas at a wall and seeing what stuck, chose to focus most of his energy on helping Katara however he could. Admittedly, part of it was that he enjoyed Katara and wanted to be able to work with her again. Still though. It was smart to have all-hands on deck for  _ The Burning Questions.  _

He offered his help, and Katara accepted. She’d send him the rough cuts of the podcast a week before it’s release, he’d give her notes by the end of the day, and she’d take his advice into consideration for the final cut released the following week. 

She actually stopped by the office last week when she was in town, but just for a moment. She had some equipment that broke and needed to replace. The office threw a party for her, with cake and everything. Office veterans excitedly caught up with her, while seasonal interns clamored to get a word in with her. She took it all in stride. Catching his eye across the room, she waved excitedly over the crowd at him. When she was able to part the sea and reach him, she gave him a firm hug and he proudly showed her a bottle of their favorite wine. She could only stay for a short drink, as she had to get ready for the Summit later that afternoon, but he still appreciated her stopping by. She could have just as easily had the new equipment shipped to her, but she went out of her way to stop by and see all her old friends. It was good to know that even through the fame and the travel, she largely was the same Katara that he had befriended years ago.

The podcast paused for the second break, he took his first sip of his coffee, grimaced, and left to dump it. 

\----------

“Can you please shut up?? I can’t hear!” Liling yelled over the chatter of the room.

“Ugh, how about you scoot over, you’re hogging all of the couch,” Thien shot back.

“Can you two stop bickering please? I don’t want to have to rewind this again,” Diu shouted over them, turning up the speaker.

_ We’re ready to dig into how Avatar Aang reacted to meeting Fire Lord Zuko. Did Avatar Aang travel all this way to shun the fire lord and demand war reparations? Or did he happily accept the olive branch and agree to let the past remain just that? You’ll know all that and more… after the break. Stay tuned.  _

Some Squarespace ad started up and Diu, the mother of the bunch, exasperatedly turned the speaker back down. 

“I don’t even know why we listen to this stupid show anyway. It’s boring,” Thien leaned back and pulled out his phone. 

Both parents gawked at the audacity of Thien. Diu’s husband and the children’s father, Isang, quipped, “You may not care about the war, but you can at least pretend to for your brother’s sake.”

“They never even talk about Renshu anyway. Nobody cares about Fire Nation finances.”

Liling chuckled, “You’re not wrong. He is a nerd. But still, we should probably listen in case something happens. He’s alone out there.”

“That’s  _ if  _ we can even trust this radio show though,” Isang grumbled. 

“Well first, it’s a podcast, Dad, that’s different. And second, Katara is from the Earth Kingdom. I think we can probably trust her.”

“I used to watch her old podcast,  _ International Hour _ , and it was quite good,” Diu chimed in.

“You don’t know what’s going on behind the scenes out there! She might have been an Earth Kingdom loyalist once upon a time, but who knows what they’ve done to her since she’s moved out there!”

“I don’t think they’d let her go out there if it wasn’t completely sa —” Liling chimed back in. 

Isang cut her off, “Still! We can’t be certain where her loyalties lie. She isn’t even Earth Kingdom, is she? She’s a Tribal Woman at heart!” 

Liling and Thien shared a look. When no one responded to his comment, Isang continued, “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that. I am open minded, you know. I’m just saying you can’t trust her.”

In a sore attempt to stop the bickering, Diu spoke up, “Well either way, it’s the only option we have. So we’re going to listen and be quiet”

Liling tuned out to the family bickering. At the end of the day, she supposed that it didn’t really matter if they listened to the podcast. They were helpless to whatever happened out there. Should the Fire Nation reclaim their independence and close their borders suddenly, there was absolutely nothing that her or her family could do for her brother. They all were skilled benders and had a pretty significant reputation within the Earth Kingdom army, except for her youngest brother Thien, who was an incredible bender but too young to enlist, and even then had exhibited some worrying discipline issues, but none of them had any strings they could pull, no emergency back-out plans in sight. They were truly helpless. 

Liling did find at least some comfort in Katara’s podcast. She didn’t entirely buy the whole “imprisoned prince” narrative that she was spinning of Fire Lord Zuko, but nevertheless, she was still able to tell  _ a  _ story. If Katara was alive and seemingly unharmed, then Renshu probably was too. So at least she had that. 

She loved her younger brother dearly. They had made a promise to call each other weekly ever since they reached adulthood and for the most part, they were able to abide by it. It was because she knew her brother so well that she was particularly worried about him. Renshu was… high-strung to say the least. He suffered from debilitating panic attacks in his younger years, that had become less common place as he got more invested in meditation and exercise. She feared that they would make an unwelcome return given the high-stress environment that Renshu was now in. She could only hope that he would lean even more so on his coping mechanisms and his support systems to get him through. She had to hope he’d come out the other end of this someday. It was just a matter of when. 

“It’s coming back on kids, listen,” her mom said, effectively breaking through her contemplative state. 

\------------

_ The Avatar has a certain way of making everyone in the room uncomfortable. Not because of anything he says or does, but instead because of what he represents. As one could imagine, that feeling of discomfort might be particularly potent for someone like Zuko, whose family could be held personally responsible for the fracturing of the air nomad identity…. _

Sokka chortled to himself. Katara was so dramatic. She had a knack for it really. After the party, she and their father had come home, a little tipsy, and could talk only about how the dessert was to die for. But for the podcast, the party was this overly tense ordeal where international peace hung in the balance. One wrong move and it would be game over. She knew how to tell a story. Of course, her ability to spin situations like that wasn’t a bad thing. She knew how to make people care and it was important that people care. 

Katara always cared. In the Earth Kingdom, everyone always acted like the perfect citizen but it rarely ever was true. They would battle online and make broad and largely unfounded assertions about their political party’s superiority (and likewise, the opposition’s inferiority) like real patriots ought to. They would post obligatory “your vote matters” on Instagram but when (or if) they ended up stumbling into a voting booth, they would guess on half the answers like it was the ACT or something. 

Not Katara though. Katara went above and beyond when it came to civic duty. She voted on every ballot, not just the big ones. She never filled in a bubble she was unsure of on a ballot, and she generally abstained from online political banter.

Sokka always knew this about her and usually used it as an opportunity to tease his sister for her neuroticism, but really, what she did was impressive. Far better than he ever did. He didn’t put half the effort she did into being a good citizen. He had kids and work, he told himself, and so he didn’t have time to run to the polling station every time a new measure was put to a vote. So he stayed home. Katara was just like their dad: invested in getting to the bottom of big problems and solving it with big changes. They set their sights big, and because of it, they were well known and respected by their communities. 

For a long time it bothered Sokka. He didn’t make valedictorian in high school, he didn’t go canvassing or campaigning, and he certainly hadn’t done anything to give himself international notoriety.

It got to him for a long time, these insecurities. Then one day he came to a realization. If he wasn’t like his father, maybe he was more like their mother. 

Kya was a great mom: family oriented, approachable, and had a wicked sense of humor. Still, she was ambitious and wanted to change the world. Not in the same way as Hakoda and Katara did, in the spotlight. Instead, Kya found ways to change the world in small, yet mighty ways. Kya joined up with the military, and though she bore no fancy titles or honors, she helped save lives. She changed the world for the individuals whose lives she touched before her passing. 

Sokka liked to believe he was the same as her. He proudly considered himself family man at heart, devoted to his wife and family. And he vowed to change people’s lives with his work over the years. He did just about everything you could imagine. He ran an iPhone repair shop out of the basement, he worked as an Uber driver, he even owned a food truck for the weekends. You name it, Sokka did it. His favorite part of the job was always that moment when he was able to return a fixed phone, or get someone home safely, where he’d see their faces light up and understand that what he did made their day a little better. However incrementally, he was helping.

After making such conclusions of his connection to his late mother, he was not only able to make himself feel better, but it also removed the invisible blockade that had tinted his pride in Katara’s work with jealousy. She was on a path that, although more widely recognized, was equally important as his own. 

With peace and ease then, he was able to continue his work, screwing in the last few screws on his first phone repair of the day, while listening to his younger sister also do what she could to change the world.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko gets in trouble. (C’mon, you knew his life had been going suspiciously well recently)
> 
> See notes at the end

“Prime Minister, you’re going to want to see this,” Long Feng announced with an ominous stack of paper in tow. Kuei felt tired just looking at it.

“Yeah, bring it in,” he told his deputy, waving him inside without glancing up. Not that Long Feng generally waited for an invitation.

“It regards your little firebending puppet,” Long Feng pushed, taking the time to enunciate each word carefully, imbuing the entire sentence with his signature vitriol.

Now Kuei had to admit he was intrigued. There wasn’t supposed to be any news about the fire lord. He wasn’t supposed to do anything that Kuei didn’t already know about.

“It appears he’s growing a backbone,” Long Feng elaborated, placing his papers centrally on Kuei’s already-cluttered desk.

Kuei dismissed Long Feng, closed his door, and set about briefing himself on whatever headache this was bound to become. Hmm. An alliance with the Southern Water Tribe. The fire lord and Chief Hakoda made their official announcement less than an hour earlier. Kuei wasn’t entirely sure what he expected when a sour-faced Long Feng loomed outside his office, but it certainly wasn’t this.

This… was bad. The decision itself would never amount to very much, of course. The Southern Water Tribe was an inconsequential excuse for a nation, a sad, puny frozen outpost that was typically just as out of mind as it was out of sight. Kuei couldn’t fathom what Zuko stood to gain from an alliance with it, but that was beside the point. Zuko wasn’t supposed to be making any choices, whether they were stupid and baffling or not. If he got away with this, whatever _ this _ was, it would set a precedent that that marionette of a dictator could lead his nation without anyone pulling his strings. Kuei couldn’t have that.

He needed to summon his council. They probably already knew (for whatever reason, the prime minister tended to be the last to learn about new developments) but Kuei still couldn’t brainstorm how to handle this alone. He needed someone who had actually spoken with Fire Lord Zuko at length, and several on his council had. Kuei had only ever heard stories and read reports about him, other than their brief introduction at the summit.

Reports characterized the young scar-faced leader as timid and mostly obedient, but that didn’t tally with what Kuei had just learned. Either Kuei’s subordinates were lying to him, or the fire lord was more subversive than he let on. Kuei wondered what his endgame was with this. Kuei wondered if he even had an endgame, or if this stunt was just an act of childish rebellion. Either way, he had to quash it.

That afternoon Kuei’s council assembled in their usual conference room. The green chalcanthite crystal lamps were set aglow, and instantly the room adopted a calming ambiance. Good. Kuei needed calm. Joo Dee, Kuei’s assistant, shuffled around the lacquered stone table, providing each councilmember with their briefing notes.

A few of them seemed surprised after all, or at the very least, had the tact to pretend not to be more in the loop than their own prime minister. The reactions were to be expected. General How and the other war hawks demanded military intervention to remind the fire lord what the Earth Kingdom was capable of. Others proposed dissolving the alliance without consulting him, and just letting him be as angry as he liked about it. Others still advocated for talking to him. Manipulating him, perhaps, or offering him a deal. But what kind of deal could you offer a man who had already lost everything? Minister Baozhai raised her voice gingerly.

“Well there’s always...” she hesitated, “_that _ method of convincing him.”

A heavy silence smothered the council’s chatter. Various members exchanged significant glances with each other. Most of them were looking at Kuei.

Kuei figured they would have to resort to that eventually. Fire Lord Zuko was bound to test his limits at some point. But once they used their final tactic, that was it. Their greatest bargaining chip would have been spent in an instant. What if…

“Not yet,” Kuei insisted. “I still have an idea left to try.”

\--------

Everything seemed different since Zuko returned from the Earth Kingdom. He knew there was a world outside the Caldera, obviously, but now he had actually seen it. Well, some of it. But even that was more than the entire rest of his life. Ba Sing Se had been so diverse and vibrant. It wasn’t necessarily any more beautiful than the Caldera was, but it was just so unpredictable. Every building in the Caldera had a purpose. The city layout was premeditated, and anything that wasn’t properly structured and utilitarian was disallowed. It appeared that there were no such regulations in the Earth Kingdom. People opened whimsical businesses that sold novelty trinkets, installed fanciful art projects on public streets simply because they could, and zoomed through the city’s rings on little electric scooters. Zuko had drunk something called a ‘spirulina latte.’ He hadn’t been aware that anything edible could come from that part of the color spectrum.

More important than the surreal experience he had there, and also perhaps more worrying, was the way that the Earth Kingdom and its never-ending drama had seemed to follow him home. He’d been back in the palace for only a few hours when Mai pounced on him like a saber-toothed moose lion. He suspected there’d be work waiting for him when he returned from Ba Sing Se, but this was more grueling than he’d envisioned. He had to hit the ground running, and even then he felt he was falling behind.

First on his list was Azula’s trial. His research revealed that the Elemental Human Rights Commission had appointed a lawyer to Azula’s case. Zuko didn’t recognize her name, but apparently she had a reputation for being thorough and ruthless. He had already missed Azula’s first arraignment, and her next hearing wasn’t for a while. He made a mental note to put that on his calendar.

Furthermore, the Earth Kingdom was allowing him marginally increasing degrees of freedom, and with it came more responsibilities. They only let him handle routine maintenance, of course, leaving their intelligence agencies to make all the decisions of any consequence, but still. The mundane needed handling.

And there was Katara’s podcast, although, that seemed less like work and more like the only part of his schedule that gave him any peace of mind. Katara had become a stabilizing force in his life, and he liked to think that she felt similarly about him. Once, in the midst of recording, they had played off each other’s banter so well that they dissolved into laughter. Zuko couldn’t even remember what they laughed about, or if it even made any sense. But it sure had been funny. Katara had to delete the entire recording and they’d had to start all over, but neither of them minded.

Satisfied with another day’s work, Zuko locked up his office and retreated to his bedchambers. He stopped short in the hallway, realizing the door was ajar. He ran through a mental list of all the reasons it might have been that way. The alarms hadn’t gone off, so an intruder was unlikely. It could have been Preeda, but she usually locked the door behind her when she was finished cleaning. Perhaps she hadn’t finished cleaning, then? But she never cleaned this late. She went about her work in the middle of the day, when Zuko was least likely to spend time in his bedroom. Maybe Zuko himself had done it. He usually wasn’t that scatter-brained, but… well his life had been turned upside down as of late. Maybe the stress was affecting him more than he thought.

With one hand he pushed the door even wider, and with the other he held a fistful of flame, poised to attack. He surveyed the room. He expected nothing to look out of place, or perhaps that something small and scarcely noticeable would alert him of whatever was going on. He certainly did not expect Prime Minister Kuei to be seated placidly at his escritoire. He wasn’t proud to admit that he’d screamed.

“Fire Lord Zuko.”

“Kuei? I mean, uh, Prime, uh, Mr. Minister?” Zuko stuttered, staring dumbly. “What are you doing in my bedroom…?”

Kuei stood, brushing the wrinkles from his dress pants.

“I thought we might have a chat regarding recent developments in your international relations department,” he explained, as if this wasn’t completely weird.

“Why wouldn’t you just send someone? And have them come to my office? During the daytime?” Zuko had dealt with his share of Kuei’s minions, but he’d only ever met the prime minister himself at the party. He’d assumed Kuei saw Fire Nation affairs as beneath him.

“Ah, well, you see. I can’t do that, because I’m not actually here right now. In fact, I’ve never been here. Understand?”

Zuko said nothing. He understood perfectly well, and he didn’t like where this was going one bit.

Kuei carried on, “You’ve been making some friends recently, haven’t you?”

“Okay?”

“Water Tribe friends, in fact.”

Of course. Zuko couldn’t make one measly diplomatic decision without the Earth Kingdom flipping out. The responsibilities they’d saddled him with recently were probably just to make him feel important. Maybe they instantly shredded his papers upon receiving them.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Zuko maintained. He crossed his arms.

“No, no, of course not. Not yet, anyway. But you did promise Chief Hakoda you’d go to war for him, didn’t you?” Kuei pointed out.

“Only if it becomes necessary, yes.”

“And if it becomes necessary?” inquired Kuei.

The chief had assured him it wouldn’t become necessary, but… Zuko supposed it wasn’t impossible. Stranger things had happened. He’d known that, deep down, when he accepted the chief’s proposal.

“Then I will go to war,” Zuko stated simply.

“Right,” Kuei exclaimed, pointing at him like a professor addressing a curious student, “And that is when you will have done something wrong.”

Zuko glared. He’d been told his disfigured eye gave him an intimidating stare. He hoped Kuei was susceptible to it.

“It is my military, and my country. I can do with it what I please.”

“Except that you can’t.” Kuei appeared to be immune to Zuko’s glower. Drat. He continued, “Have you forgotten, Fire Lord, that it is by the grace of the Earth Kingdom that you’re still alive right now? You were coached early on to be friendly and cooperative. You’re not doing so well at the moment.”

Zuko’s self-preservation instinct flared up inside him. He could defer to Kuei right now and save his skin. He _ should _ defer to Kuei right now and save his skin. But… something else was churning in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time, perhaps not since before he was burned and disgraced. Conviction.

He uncrossed his arms and straightened his shoulders. He met Kuei’s bespectacled eyes.

“You’re going to kill me, Minister? Who will be your puppet then? My sister is in prison and everyone else is dead. I believe… I believe you’re bluffing. You need me,” Zuko goaded. Wow. Where had that even come from? He didn’t regret it, though, strangely.

He saw anger flash across Kuei’s features, but oddly enough, when he spoke next, he did so calmly.

“Right. I was afraid you might be thinking that way. Perhaps I can entice you with a deal instead. You see, I have something that you want very much.”

Zuko couldn’t help but smile. He highly doubted Kuei had anything he wanted, but he was nevertheless pleased that Kuei had resorted to bargaining. Maybe Zuko wasn’t awful at this whole fire lord thing after all.

"Dissolve your alliance with the Southern Water Tribe. When you do, I will have your sister transferred back to Fire Nation custody.”

That threw Zuko for a loop. He’d expect some stupid deal where he would be allowed to speak more during meetings, or something equally useless. What would Mai say if she were here? She would accept, right? She’d accuse Zuko of turning his back on his family if he did anything else. But then there was the chief. Either way, he’d be turning his back on somebody. He heard firsthand from Katara about the opportunities the people of the Southern Water Tribe lacked. Hakoda had told him all about how sovereignty was the first step towards fixing that. This wasn’t fair. Zuko wasn’t trying to start a war; he was only trying to do the right thing.

Kuei was watching him. He must’ve looked as doubtful as he felt. 

“She would still have to be held in custody, of course. But she could at least be back in her homeland, in a facility of your choosing,” Kuei clarified.

“She would still stand trial?”

“Yes. But even after she’s convicted, she could live out her sentence closer to home.”

Zuko paused. He had to admit it was tempting. Except for one detail.

“What if the judge orders a death sentence?”

Kuei’s mouth formed a plaintive line. He said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Still, it’s not like Azula had anything to lose. If she died, she died. Zuko needed to plan for what happened if she didn’t die.

“Can I think about it?” He asked.

Kuei shrugged and made for the door. “You can. I’ll be here a few more days.”

When he was gone, Zuko shouted a string of expletives into his pillow. He’d only been trying to do some good in this horrible world. Why was he so bad at being good?

\-------

“So she could just skip her trial?!” Katara asked, face contorted in awe.

“Well no. She would still go to trial. But before, and after, so long as she is not given the death penalty, she could reside in the Fire Nation,” Zuko explained. He’d recounted the details of his meeting—ambush, more like—with Kuei.

He wasn’t sure why he chose to confide in Katara. Probably because he’d exhausted his other, more traditional resources. When Kuei left his room that night, Zuko laid down for a fitful night’s sleep, and then sought out his minister of international relations at the earliest possible hour that was still somewhat socially acceptable.

Minister Hansuke had opened his door bleary-eyed and pajama-clad, and had only begrudgingly allowed Zuko inside. Zuko told him the events of the previous night, but had made certain adjustments so as not to violate his vow of secrecy with Kuei. He presented the conversation as having taken place over the phone instead. Honestly, it was probably more believable than what really happened.

Minister Hansuke pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation.

“My Lord, with all due respect, I advised you against the alliance with Chief Hakoda since its inception,” he said.

He had. Zuko had nearly forgotten, since Minister Hansuke was far from the only person who disapproved of the Southern Water Tribe alliance. Zuko sighed.

“Yes. Yes, you did. And perhaps I should have listened, but I didn’t. So now I need your help dealing with the choices that I did make.”

“Your Highness, if you won’t heed my advice when I volunteer it, then I fail to see why you’ll heed it now.”

That was it. He dismissed Zuko into the empty hallway and shut the door in his face.

_ Well fuck him, then. _

And so Zuko had gone to Katara.

Katara didn’t curl her lip scornfully or scold him for making decisions he couldn’t take back. She listened with undivided attention and when she responded, she did so thoughtfully and sympathetically. Zuko tried to convince himself that he turned to her because of her expertise on international politics, and that was a factor, but the truth is that he just liked talking to her. Their conversations felt safe. Zuko knew she wasn’t judging him, and that she was trying her genuine best to provide him with advice he could use.

“Why does Kuei so vehemently disapprove of your alliance with my tribe anyway?” She pondered aloud.

It was a good question. In theory it was because this alliance could result in a demonstration of the Fire Nation’s military power, but Zuko suspected there was more to it than that. Kuei probably resented that Zuko didn’t ask permission first, and now he was sabotaging the whole undertaking. He told Katara as much.

“What should I do? I want my sister back, but I cannot just back out of this agreement with your father…” He entreated. His voice cracked a little. He probably sounded pathetic, but he was too preoccupied to care.

Katara considered it. She traced the wood grain in his desk as she spoke.

“If your sister is going to be in custody either way, does it make much difference if she’s in the Fire Nation?”

“I think so. I could visit her, and make sure she’s being treated humanely. And if her trial goes, erm, poorly… then at least she could spend her final days here in the Caldera. At least I could say goodbye…”

He realized he had glazed over, and when he came to, he was startled to see Katara looking intensely at him.

“I’m really sorry you’re going through this,” she told him, with an earnestness that he’d never really encountered before. He was so used to people being false with him for one reason or another. “I won’t pretend that I know what to do about it, and even if I did, I wouldn’t feel good about telling you what to do. Azula is your sister, after all. You alone should decide. I won’t think any worse of you no matter what you choose. I trust that you have your reasons.”

Katara trusted him! She was the only one who did. He didn’t even trust himself most of the time.

“But what about your father…”

“He’ll get over it, if that’s what you decide. Somethings are too important to worry about what other people think.”

“Katara?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

\-------

Zuko had viewed Kuei’s offer as something that took away his agency. He had made his alliance with Chief Hakoda of his own volition, and then Kuei came along and narrowed his choices, forcing him to select the lesser of two evils (whichever option that was). It felt coerced. It felt like it undermined Zuko’s independence.

Katara made him view it differently. From her vantage point, he still had plenty of agency, possibly more than he did before. Kuei’s deal wouldn’t strip him of his conviction; it was an opportunity to double down on what he believed in. He didn’t have to yield. For the first time in his life, he could dig in his heels and insist that he knew what he was doing. He could trust himself.

“Fire Lord Zuko. You’ve had time to do some thinking, then?” Called Kuei when Zuko entered the room. They were convened in a conference room this time, at a reasonable hour, like normal people.

“I have.”

“And?”

“Azula will remain in Earth Kingdom custody. I made an agreement with Chief Hakoda, and it’s my duty to honor that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, and happy first chapter of 2020! 
> 
> I just want to address the way Kuei is portrayed here. Yes, Kuei is pretty OOC. I just felt that the clueless, puppet ruler Kuei from canon didn’t fit in this AU. So please, suspend your disbelief and accept Savvy Politician!Kuei
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuei deploys his secret weapon. Does that go well for Zuko? Definitely not! 
> 
> See important note at the end

Minister Hansuke resigned. Apparently he learned that Zuko had chosen to stand by the Southern Water Tribe, even after everything he’d been through because of it, and so Hansuke made some crack about how he refused to work for “a stubborn, shortsighted man-child.” And then he quit. Zuko found out all of this secondhand. The coward didn’t even bid Zuko goodbye before he left a gaping hole in Zuko’s council.

Minister Hansuke wasn’t even the worst or the most pressing of Zuko’s concerns. When he’d rejected the deal, Kuei had handled it eerily well. Zuko didn’t buy it for a second. There was an international storm brewing, he could feel it. Kuei was plotting his next move, and until he made it, Zuko had no choice but to drift in the foreboding calm that preceded it.

It was making him paranoid. When he found himself with some free time, he spent it pacing his chambers, or else searching for more bugs, even though he hadn’t found any since he tore them down several months ago. Once, when he went to retire for the night, he was seized by an overwhelming, irrational sense of panic that made him unlock his bedroom door and kick it open, as if he expected Kuei to be hiding there again. He cast a fistful of flame into every corner, illuminating whatever could have been lurking there, but it was empty.

Even that paled in comparison to the guilt. Once the exhilaration of standing up to Kuei had faded, Zuko realized what he had done. He’d wasted what would probably be his only chance to take Azula back into Fire Nation custody. Even if she dodged the death penalty, whatever Earth Kingdom prison she’d call home for the rest of her life could take away her visitation rights, and they wouldn’t even owe him an explanation for it. Zuko knew he’d be allowed to attend her trial, but beyond that, he couldn’t be certain he’d ever see her again.

Somehow he still didn’t regret standing by his alliance with Hakoda. Yes, it was riddling him with guilt, making him skittish, keeping him up at night, and taking such a toll on his mental health that it was quite possibly shaving years off his life. Alright, maybe that was a tad dramatic. But still. Even though he was feeling a nightmarish rainbow of emotions, regret wasn’t one of them. Doing the right thing didn’t mean there wasn’t a price to be paid. But that also didn’t mean it wasn’t right.

When Zuko learned he had yet another mystery visitor, he just about lost it.

“You know what? No!” He shrieked at the staff member who was unlucky enough to have been the bearer of bad news. “No more visitors! Send them home.”

The staff member shifted uncomfortably. He stood roosterpigeon toed, twiddling his fingers.

“My Lord, I really think you ought to—” 

“I said no. I don’t care who it is. Mai, Minister Kuei, Fire Lord Sozin risen from the dead, Agni himself… tell them to fuck off.” 

“My nephew, I did not teach you to speak with such vulgarity.”

Zuko swore his heart momentarily stopped beating. He’d only been joking about dead family members rising from the urn. And yet…

_ “Uncle?” _

Uncle Iroh, whose skull looked very much like it had  _ not _ been shattered by Earth Kingdom bullets, stepped into view. Zuko might have been embarrassed about his outburst if he were able to feel coherent emotions.

“You’re alive,” he noted, pointlessly. He was willing to bet his uncle knew that already. “How are you alive?”

“I will explain everything. That is, if you have time to entertain one more visitor,” Iroh offered, his eyes gleaming playfully.

Zuko, dumbstruck, nodded.

The staff brought him tea without being asked. Uncle’s favorite, too. White jasmine, brewed just below boiling temperature, and steeped for exactly one minute and a half. Old habits die hard, especially when those habits involve a lifetime of serving the indomitable Dragon of the West. They also brought a cup for Zuko, even though he’d always been indifferent to tea.

Zuko was sure that his uncle had anticipated the kinds of obvious questions he would ask, but that didn’t mean Zuko didn’t still want their corresponding answers. Where had he been all this time? Why hadn’t he contacted Zuko before now? Why hadn’t special ops killed him? Why did they tell everyone they had? Why was he here now?

Iroh revealed that he’d been in Ba Sing Se living under a pseudonym. He owned a tea shop there, and was apparently quite happy. That was the only thing he answered directly. On the rest he’d equivocated.

Eventually Iroh had enough of being interrogated by his bewildered nephew and took control of the conversation.

“Zuko, listen to me. I’ve come to discuss something of utmost importance with you.”

Okay then. Zuko waited.

“I understand that you turned down a deal with Prime Minister Kuei. A deal that would have resulted in Azula’s homecoming, had you accepted it.”

“How do you know that…?” It was hardly public knowledge. Katara hadn’t even put it in the podcast.

“There are many secrets which will make themselves known to you when the time is right.” Of course it was too much to expect that Uncle would actually answer the question. Fine. Zuko could play this game.

“Yeah. I turned it down.”

“Do you care to justify that decision?”

“Not really. You won’t answer any of my questions, so…” Zuko made it sound like he’d trailed off, but he’d said what he meant to say. He kept his chin defiantly up.

Iroh let out a short exhale. “My nephew, I know you find my behavior to be enigmatic and frustrating, but I ask that you cooperate with me for the time being. This matter is paramount—”

“But why?” Zuko thundered, “Why do you care? Why does it affect your life whether I did or didn’t make a deal with the prime minister?” 

“Zuko, I—”

“He put you up to this, didn’t he?” Icy realization seized Zuko around the head. The pieces were finally fitting together, and Zuko dearly, desperately wished they weren’t. “He! You—That’s why they didn’t kill you, isn’t it? You’re working with them!”

“Nephew, listen to me!” Iroh barked with the authoritative voice he’d probably used back in his military days. Zuko didn’t give a shit. Instead he gasped as the final piece of the puzzle slid into place. It left him feeling unclean and miserable.

“You sold us out, didn’t you?”

Iroh didn’t answer. Zuko didn’t realize he was welling up with tears until one slid down his cheek.

“Say it! You sold us out to save yourself!” Zuko demanded.

Iroh still didn’t speak. He seemed to be trying to communicate all of his grief and regret to Zuko with his eyes. That wasn’t good enough. Zuko wanted to hear him say it.

“…You sold out your own brother and now he’s dead. You as good as killed him.”

“I don’t deny it,” Iroh croaked finally. “But listen to me! I did it for you! For you and Azula!”

Zuko let out a horrible cackle. “Oh, you did this for  _ me? _ Of course, how thoughtful! If I’d known you were alive, I’d have sent you a muffin basket!”

“Yes, for you and your sister! You don’t understand. If I hadn’t intervened, the Earth Kingdom would have stormed the palace anyway. If I hadn’t made a deal with them, you and your sister would have been killed, just like your father!”

“So instead, she’s in prison facing a death sentence, and I’m in charge of cleaning up the mess you created. That’s so much better. I get it now, thank you!” Zuko grinned a deranged grin.

“Zuko, please…”

“Don’t ‘Zuko please’ me. What if the Earth Kingdom hadn’t stormed the palace, did that ever occur to you? Or what if our guards were strong enough to hold them off? Then we would all be alive and you wouldn’t have blood on your hands! You know, this whole time I thought I was the Earth Kingdom’s puppet, but it turns out, it was you all along.”

Iroh fell silent again. He looked uncharacteristically sullen. Zuko could only see his flaws and vulnerabilities. The wise old man Zuko used to look up to was gone.

“Get out of my sight,” Zuko spat.

Iroh was clearly pained, but he obeyed.

“Oh, Uncle?” Zuko called before Iroh was gone. Iroh paused and faced him. “I wish it had been you instead of Father.” 

When Iroh was gone Zuko kicked his desk. Hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an announcement to make. Due to some personal and professional stresses I’m experiencing right now, I’m going to go on hiatus. I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be back, but both this story and its wonderful readers are very important to me, and so I’ll so my best not to leave you hanging for too long. Thank you in advance for your patience, and please continue to check back every couple of weeks to see when I’ve returned. You guys make this story so much fun to write. As always, thanks for reading.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is trapped. Katara finds that she is trapped, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Thank you guys so much for your patience, seriously. I received so many supportive and understanding comments last chapter. You guys are awesome. I want you to know that I spent my hiatus working on some stuff I think you'll really like, so stay tuned!

Katara watched as Zuko fiddled with the corner of a stack of paper in between them, the record tape long forgotten. Unlike most of their conversations, the red light indicating that the device was on remained unlit. They had long surpassed their allotted time for their meeting, but neither showed any signs of caring. She looked across the desk at Zuko, who just moments ago looked like he might cry if he spoke any more, and had fallen silent until he could reign his emotions in enough to speak once more. 

There was nothing Katara could say to make things better either. She didn’t even know what had happened, not really. All Zuko had told her was that the prime minister did have something hidden up his sleeve, and had recently unveiled it to him. Based on Zuko’s reaction, it couldn’t be anything good.

As the silence carried on, Katara anxiously toyed around with different theories of what Kuei threatened. Whatever it was had to be bad enough to make Zuko look like he had just seen a ghost. Her best guess was that the prime minister took things further with Azula, and outright threatened her safety. Sure, he technically didn’t have the power to order her execution directly, because of the whole “due process” thing, but that didn't necessarily have to stop him. All it would take was a security camera malfunction at the exact moment Azula had some sort of accident and no one would blink an eye. It would be easy for him to get away with it too. No one in the Earth Kingdom would miss her. She wouldn’t put it past Kuei either. She was aware of the longstanding rumors that his deputy, Long Feng, had a history of making the right people disappear. 

Zuko slowly began nodding to himself, as if he had also drawn some sort of conclusion in the short few minutes of silence Katara had given him. He then started feeling around the bottom of the table for something. What it was, Katara didn’t know. He turned and checked the bookshelf behind him, feeling around until he found a small metallic piece, about the size of a thimble, and picked it up. They had bugged him, Katara realized. He moved across the room, stuffed it in the cushion of arm chair, and tossed a woolen jacket over the top for good measure. He made his way back to the table, and nodded at Katara once again before finally speaking up. 

“My uncle is not dead. They did not kill him after all.”

Katara was fully prepared to offer words of comfort that, now completely irrelevant, fell flat in her mouth. She stuttered, “Wait, what?”

He fiddled with the documents in front of them once more, but this time he was able to meet Katara’s eyes, “He has been in the Earth Kingdom this whole time.”

“Oh, Zuko, that’s such great news! You two were close, right?”

“He’s working for the prime minister. He told them how to break into the palace,” Zuko spit out, ripping the edge of the top paper. 

“Oh. So he helped with the coup…?”

“Yes. He led them inside, pointed them to my father’s room and had them kill him.” 

And Katara thought that the Fire Nation royal family could get any more complex. Somehow this was worse than threats of violence against Azula. This betrayal would devastate Zuko.  _ Had _ devastated him, evidently. And Kuei knew it too. “Zuko, I’m so sorry. I mean… are you sure? Did he tell you all of this?”

“I’m sure. The Earth Kingdom set him up with Witness Protection. He has been living a normal life in Ba Sing Se. He came out of hiding to tell me that it is in my best interest to listen to Kuei.” 

Veiled threats from Kuei’s mouth was one thing, but to weaponize Zuko’s resurrected uncle to force Zuko into submission was too far. Katara’s blood boiled. His reappearance surely peeled away any sort of scab that Zuko had been able to form since the coup. It was downright cruel. Still, Katara’s anger wouldn’t do any good here. Not yet. She softened her expression. “I’m sure this came as a complete shock.”

His shoulders slumped and he nodded morosely, in a defeated silence once more. 

Sometimes it was hard to believe Zuko was as young as he was. With the weight of a nation delicately placed upon his shoulders, he could easily bow under the pressure. Most of the time, Zuko gracefully accepted his role, and made no protest against the beating it surely gave him. But the stress and isolation can take a silent toll. It would age anyone.

It was moments like this that Katara could cut through the many layers of the man across from her and felt like she could truly see him. Zuko dropped his regal exterior to show her a thoughtful, quiet, and even terrorized interior self who didn’t want to be in this position. And in a sad twist of fate, it was Zuko’s own uncle who put him there. 

From what Zuko had told her, it seemed Iroh was the only one from Zuko’s past that had been a proper role model for him. His return did nothing but shatter that perception. And why? Because Zuko wanted to extend his help to Katara’s dad. 

She turned her introspection towards herself. Did she somehow push Zuko into doing this? Had she used her job to sway his opinion? If so, how much of this was her fault? Should she be held accountable? 

She broke the silence with a clearing of her throat, “I can’t help but feel at least partially responsible for all this. You’re doing my family the favor—”

“No. I want to do this. Either way my uncle would be out there. You didn’t ask him to betray my family.”

“Even then, if you want to back out of the Southern Water Tribe Treaty, everyone would understand, you know.” 

“No, I will not budge. I cannot let them win,” he asserted.

Katara was privately relieved. Not only because it meant she didn’t have to call her father and deliver the bad news, but also because, dammit, she didn’t want Kuei to get away with this. 

“Alright. Well... I’m still sorry so much has been put on you. It’s not fair.”

For the first time, Zuko cracked a small, pitiful smile and let out a breathy chuckle. “I should learn to expect it, honestly.”

Katara nodded. Zuko continued, “I shouldn’t keep you much longer. I’m sure you have work to do.”

Zuko got up. Katara responded before getting up as well, “I don’t mind! If you need anyone to talk to, I’m here.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you,” he said with a small smile. Katara hesitated, and then embraced him. 

Zuko stiffened, at first, before relaxing into her grip, and even rested his head on her shoulder. They stood like that for several short moments before Katara pulled away.

“You know where to find me if you need anything,” she told him sternly. 

“Yes. I do. Thank you, Katara,” he responded, still seemingly in a daze. 

She nodded once more before making her leave. When the door shut behind her, she felt a switch flip inside of her. The concern she felt for Zuko made room for the searing rage she felt for Prime Minister Kuei. How dare he pull something like that? The frequency of the clicking of her heels against the marble flooring of the hallway quickened as she picked up her pace. 

Well, Katara could play that game too. Just because Zuko had to be his puppet, didn’t mean that she had to be. 

She could release a podcast and reveal to the world what a slimy, lowlife, cowardly bastard Kuei could be. One thing that Kuei never accounted for was the Earth Kingdom people liking her podcast as much as they did. A major benefit of her podcast’s popularity was that it had effectively reworked Zuko’s image. If she were to tell the truth and blow the whistle on the prime minister, she could easily get the people on her (and Zuko’s) side. She’d hit Kuei where it hurts. She’d take away a sizable chunk of his constituents’ support.

Katara came to a firm stop in the middle of the hall. There was just one major problem with this plan. Technically no one was supposed to know that Iroh was still alive. If Katara revealed that Iroh was alive, it could put him in danger. She weighed the risks of that. She didn’t want anything to happen to him, necessarily. Zuko was clearly angry with Iroh and she didn’t doubt that he had good reason. As terrible as Fire Lord Ozai was, he was still Zuko’s father and his violent demise was sure to be traumatic. Moreover, she knew the betrayal went far past just the death and destruction of his family. Iroh abandoned Zuko to deal with the consequences of his choices alone. If Iroh was already working for the Earth Kingdom, he could have just as easily taken on the responsibility of leading the Fire Nation himself and spared Zuko, but he didn’t. 

Nevertheless, Katara did agree that it was a good thing that the war was over… It must have taken an incredible amount of strength to, one, realize that the Fire Nation government needed overthrowing, and two, decide to overthrow it and in doing so, put the lives of his family in danger. 

From what Zuko had told her of his uncle in the past, he did sound like a good person. Honestly, he was the only one from Zuko’s past that he had spoken of fondly. She remembered stories he told her of playing on the beach and long games of Pai Sho. In the heat of the moment, Zuko might have directed all of his anger at Iroh specifically, but she hoped that over time, the two of them could make amends. Given time, Zuko could come around and lean on his Uncle for support once more. 

The more she thought about it, her fight wasn’t with Iroh, really, it was just with Kuei. She wasn’t willing to make Iroh another casualty in this fight. Kuei put Iroh in the middle of this fight, and Katara wouldn’t perpetuate that behavior. If there was a chance to defend Zuko, without betraying his trust or destroying Iroh’s life in hiding, then she had to take it. It was a tall order, dancing around all of these topics she shouldn’t be privy to, and protecting Zuko’s family along the way, but maybe—just maybe—if she did it right, she could start to properly thank him for sticking his neck out for her. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following is a transcript of The Burning Questions S1E17, “What’s Emotion Got To Do With It?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the main theme of the podcast Serial while you read this. 
> 
> (That's a joke)  
(...mostly)

Previously on _ The Burning Questions _

[Intro music]

[Sound bites]

Hakoda: …from this day onward, the Southern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation will come to aid one another in each other’s time of need, will make strategic political choices to the benefit of both their own and each other’s citizens, and shall form an alliance to see each other through the hardships they will endure as friends and neighbors… 

Kuei: …I did not authorize this, no. I did not provide any input whatsoever. The decision was made without my knowledge… 

Arnook: …in my opinion this is a hostile action. You say there’s no mention of war, but there is. Subsection 3: the countries promise to provide military aid in each other’s international conflicts. I’m sorry, but that’s just hostile. Chief Hakoda and I have been going back and forth for years on this issue but now Fire Lord Zuko’s just involved himself in it too… 

Zuko: ...I only ever wanted to do the right thing. And now I’m trapped. 

Katara: From EKPR, this is _ The Burning Questions_, the show where I unfold the mysteries of the Fire Nation, as told by Fire Lord Zuko himself. I’m Katara, your host. 

[Music swells, then fades out] 

Okay, if you were paying attention, then you probably noticed that last sound bite isn’t actually from last week’s episode. It's something Zuko said to me in one of our more recent interviews, but it never actually aired. Until now.

[Repeat sound bite] 

Zuko: I only ever wanted to do the right thing. And now I’m trapped. 

Katara: It’s a powerful sound bite. Zuko succinctly describes how he’s feeling, and the quivering in his voice corroborates it. 

Zuko: …now I’m trapped.

Katara: So I spent some time contemplating why I didn’t air it sooner, and I’ve identified a problem that I believe has plagued the way I’ve written this show for a while now. I’ve been trying to write _ The Burning Questions _ behind a veneer of professionalism. After all, I am a professional, and so it’s my duty to report the news to my listeners in a certain manner, isn’t it? I’m a third party. I’m not a politician, and so when I present you with the facts, I have to maintain some emotional distance from what I’m saying. I need to handle the subject matter at arm’s length.

Zuko: trapped.

Katara: There’s just one problem. I also have a duty to provide the whole story, to the best of my ability, and I’ve come to the conclusion that emotion—and all the messiness and subjectivity that come with it—has become an integral part of this story.

As great as that sound bite is, it’s still bogged down by limitations. You can hear Zuko’s voice crack, yes, you can hear his pleading tone, but you can’t see the look on his face. You can’t see the way he drums on the tabletop with his fingers when he’s nervous, or the way he peels at the corner of his notes when he’s lost in thought. You can’t see what I see, and everything I see when I speak with Zuko about this issue points to sincerity. That’s important right now. Really important.

Kuei: He and I made an agreement, an agreement that he violated. You lose trust after something like that. It’s no wonder the public’s perception of him is souring. 

Katara: Would you not say that the agreement was created under extraordinary circumstances? Circumstances that might have limited one party’s ability to intelligently and voluntarily consent to such an agreement?

Kuei: … I believe that there’s no such thing as ordinary circumstances when you’re a world leader dealing with international politics. There’s always going to be external pressure. There are always going to be reasons why you can’t just act on your own whims. Someone always has to sacrifice something.

Katara: That’s Prime Minister Kuei. I reached out to him to get his take on the Fire Nation’s newly formed alliance. Needless to say, he’s unhappy about it. In fact, he feels betrayed.

He’s not the only one who feels that way. Fire Lord Zuko’s approval rating has taken a significant hit, and that’s both in the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation, where Gallup-style public polls are still a recent phenomenon. But Zuko’s not a democratically elected leader. So why does public opinion affect him so much? Why should he care?

I asked Kuei for his thoughts on the matter.

Kuei: Zuko’s young, and he’s a really inexperienced leader, so I don’t expect him to understand the importance of public opinion right now. But he needs to understand that even if public opinion in his homeland doesn’t directly translate into votes and therefore chances at reelection, it still serves as social capital. He’s going to be dealing with people, directly and indirectly, some of whom he’s never even met before. All that those people know of him is his reputation, and he’s going to need things from them. He’s going to be trying to forge alliances, trade agreements, you name it. He can’t accomplish any of that if people don’t have some modicum of trust. People won’t work with him if he can’t demonstrate reliability.

Katara: What Kuei is saying makes a lot of sense, but there’s an issue that he’s deliberately talking around. Kuei insists that Zuko consensually agreed to ally himself with the Earth Kingdom immediately following his coronation, but other sources indicate otherwise. Let’s look at the language of that agreement.

There’s this long section at the beginning that establishes who’s signing this treaty and how they figure into the conflict. Everybody gets an introduction, both individuals and political entities. For example, here’s Kuei’s.

“The Prime Minister of the Earth Kingdom, by:

The Minister Kuei, Prime Minister of the Earth Kingdom, acting in his own name and by his own proper authority.”

And then it goes onto list more minor Earth Kingdom authorities who also signed. Zuko has an introduction that’s almost identical.

“The Fire Lord of the Fire Nation, by:

Fire Lord Zuko the First, Fire Lord of the Fire Nation, acting in his own name and by his own proper authority.”

I read that part out loud to Zuko.

[Addressing Zuko] Do you recognize that?

Zuko: Yes. It is the Treaty of Caldera City.

Katara: It’s called the Treaty of Caldera City because that’s where Zuko officially signed it, but it was almost entirely drawn up in Ba Sing Se before Zuko had ever laid eyes on it. It ended the Hundred Year War, among other things.

[Addressing Zuko] And you signed it, right?

At this point Zuko gestured at the paper, as if to say, “see for yourself.”

[Addressing Zuko] [Laugh] Just tell me. You signed it, right?

Zuko: Yes, I signed it.

Katara: Did you read it before you signed it?

Zuko: [Laugh] Like, most of it, yes.

Katara: Most of it?

Zuko: It was a very busy period of my life, alright? I was not in control of how I spent my time.

Katara: Zuko sounds embarrassed, but I was troubled by his response. Anyone following the news has been led to believe that Zuko was not only not in control of how he spent his time back then, but that almost everything he did, he did at gunpoint. Did he sign this treaty at gunpoint too?

[Addressing Zuko] Did you contribute anything to this treaty besides your signature?

Zuko: I do not understand your question?

Katara: Did you write any of it, or make suggestions to the people who did?

Zuko: Oh. Ah, no.

Katara: Did you want to? Did anyone ask if you wanted to?

Zuko: … Like I said, it was a very busy time…

Katara: What Zuko’s too polite to tell you is that of course he didn’t. The treaty was finished before he ever saw it, and his signature was the final piece needed to complete it. So of course the Earth Kingdom was in a rush to complete the treaty. Why would Zuko have been given time to read it thoroughly and make adjustments?

“Acting in his own name and by his own proper authority.”

If Zuko was coerced into signing this treaty, is that a lie?

Kuei: How could you _ prove _ it?

Katara: Yeah, like how could someone make sure that everyone who signed was acting in their own name and by their own proper authority?

Kuei: Well, his signature is on the treaty, isn’t it?

Katara: Yeah.

Kuei: Is that not good enough? Why don’t you ask him if he signed it?

Katara: I did.

Kuei: And?

Katara: He said he did.

Kuei: Then I don’t know what other proof you could possibly want.

Katara: It’s not that I didn’t believe Zuko signed the treaty. It’s the phrasing about his name and authority that’s bothering me. I wanted to get at the nuance of those words. “Proper” just seemed like such a subjective word to me. I asked Kuei about it.

Kuei: It means, you know, proper. Acting in the capacity he’s been authorized. No more, no less.

Katara: But there’s been debate about what is the fire lord’s capacity to act. I mean, Fire Lord Sozin would have claimed his capacity was a lot greater than the rest of the world would have said, right?

Kuei: The fire lord’s authority is and has been a complicated subject for some time now. “Proper” in the context of the treaty refers to the definition that we had all agreed upon and were operating on at that time.

Katara: But who was to say who agreed upon that definition? And where was the record that Zuko was among the parties who agreed to it? I felt like I was back at square one. I asked my father, Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe, what he thought.

Hakoda: You know, I’m gonna be honest, I don’t really think it matters.

Katara: You don’t think it matters whether or not Zuko was coerced into signing the treaty?

Hakoda: Not really, no.

Katara: How can you say that?

Hakoda: Well, the rest of the world is acting like he did. Hell, you said Zuko himself is acting like he did. So if you’re the only one fixated on this, I don’t really think it matters. The rest of the world is just going to carry on without you. Sorry, sweetie.

Katara: Maybe my dad was right. Maybe Zuko really did sign the treaty of his own volition, and even if he didn’t, everyone else was determined to pretend he did. So what does that mean for Zuko’s new alliance with the Southern Water Tribe?

[Addressing Hakoda] So if Zuko signed the treaty, and it really is that simple, then his alliance with you is undoubtedly a violation of that, isn’t it?

Hakoda: Well… yeah.

Katara: I expected my father to equivocate, or justify Zuko’s choice in some way. His answer surprised me.

[Addressing Hakoda] Yeah? That’s all?

Hakoda: What do you want me to say? Agreements get rewritten and trampled on all the time. That’s just kind of how international politics work. Everyone does it. You do what you think is best for your people. It’s about the greater good.

Katara: If everyone does it all the time, then why is Zuko receiving so much criticism for it?

Hakoda: Probably because he’s so new. And you know, because he comes from a long line of dictators with an extensive history of human rights violations.

Katara: I suppose that’s fair. My dad broke an alliance with Chief Arnook of the Northern Water Tribe in order to create his alliance with Zuko, but the general public is far less suspicious of my dad than they are of Zuko. I reached out to Chief Arnook for his perspective. He declined to comment.

Now is the part of our broadcast where I need to come clean. When I sat down to write this piece, I admit that I had an agenda. I wanted to exonerate Zuko. Zuko is very aware of how the public had been reacting to his new alliance, and that pressure is affecting him. He’s complained of loss of sleep, heart palpitations, and a general feeling of self-doubt that chases him wherever he goes. I’m uniquely positioned here in Zuko’s palace. I live here, and I work here, but I’m not his employee. I’m not even a subject of his crown. It’s my job to report on his political performance, and yet I consider him a friend. Almost everyone else around me has been in this palace years longer than I have, and yet Zuko and I have shared some fairly intimate conversations. I know him better than most. My role here is fundamentally paradoxical, and more often than not, I feel torn between my duties and my loyalties. But my unique position means I’m one of the only people in the world who can vouch for Zuko’s good intentions at this critical juncture.

I thought a lot about what my dad said. I wanted to clear Zuko’s name on a technicality, to prove that he wasn’t really doing anything wrong because he was coerced, or because he hadn’t actually violated any terms of the treaty. But my dad thinks there’s nothing to prove. It doesn’t matter if Zuko was coerced, since the outcome is the same as if he hadn’t been, and therefore Zuko is in violation of the treaty now. So where does that leave my mission to clear his name?

[Repeat sound bite]

Hakoda: You do what you think is best for your people. It’s about the greater good.

Katara: Maybe this isn’t a matter of rights, wrongs, and technicalities. Maybe it’s a matter of people, and people are more complicated than that. Zuko’s a good person. I don’t know how else to say it. I’ve spent a lot of time with him now, and I feel I have the authority to say that. You don’t have to believe me. That’s your belief, just as I’m telling you what I believe right now. Good people, just like bad people and everyone in between, get backed into corners. They are faced with difficult decisions with no satisfying answers. They have to disappoint people. They have to say enough is enough. There’s nothing Zuko could have done that would have pleased everyone. He’s got too many people clamoring for a say in the way he runs his nation. He made a choice, and he did it for a cause he believes in. He wants to help the people of the Southern Water Tribe, and he’s convinced this is the way to do it. He’s fallible. He’s human. He might be wrong. But he’s trying. He shouldn’t be lambasted for trying.

I couldn’t exonerate Zuko of violating the treaty, because, well, he’s guilty. But maybe I can convince you to forgive him for his crime. He’s a young leader. He’s still carving out a path for himself in the dense jungle of international politics, and he’s still not sure who he is yet. Don’t punish him for trusting his instincts. Don’t punish him for trying to help people.

In the beginning of this podcast, I stressed the importance of subjective emotion in this complex political tale. What’s emotion got to do with it, you ask? Everything. Zuko isn’t a computer. He can’t make cold, calculated decisions without feeling, and he shouldn’t. Neither should I. That’s why I’ve come to his defense today. I can’t report the facts without reporting what they mean to me. It would have been deceptive of me to try. Zuko is brave. He’s brave, sympathetic, and it hurts me to see him feeling so helpless and alone.

[Repeat sound bite]

Zuko: I only ever wanted to do the right thing.

[Outro music]

Katara: Sometimes in our careers we encounter crossroads with no clear direction, or perhaps competing directions. Zuko has taken a leap of faith in order to come to the aid of a small town tribe he’s never even visited in order to help people he’s never met. If he can find it in his heart to do that, then surely I owe it to him to help in any way that I can.

I’m Katara. Thank you for listening to EKPR’s _ The Burning Questions_.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Katara. What have you done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the chapter! I hope everyone is staying healthy and safe.

Katara had a special routine that she held herself to for publishing days. She had always liked to make an occasion of it, even before  _ The Burning Questions _ was a thing. She preferred to have the podcast uploaded the night before and ready to auto-publish so the timing stayed consistent. Besides that, she liked having the day to herself. She didn’t have to think about the podcast or the political intricacies she wrapped herself into. No, she normally would sleep-in, eat a large breakfast, take a walk, maybe watch a movie or two (or three), and generally practice the ancient art of self-care.

Today was supposed to follow the same routine. After much hemming and hawing, she uploaded the content last night, and got ready for bed. She looked forward to a long night's sleep, and planned to wake up no earlier than noon. 

Suki, however, had a different plan. 

At 3:30 in the morning, Katara’s phone rang. She blearily groped at the bedside table to try and locate the phone making a noise far too offensive for that early in the morning on Katara’s beloved day off. She found the phone and turned the screen to face her to see who could possibly be demanding her attention right now. In bright white lettering she read “Suki.” She sat up in her bed, and answered, “Suki, someone better be dying.”

“Katara, hi! Oh, shit, did I wake you?”

“It’s the middle of the night, so yeah,” she responded as she leaned over to turn on the lamp next to her. 

“Oh! Oh, sorry! I always forget about the time difference. I just finished listening to the podcast. I just wanted to say: wow.”

Katara wiped the sleep from her eyes and was examining the residue. She paused, “You liked it? I thought that it could help his case.”

“Pssh, yeah that’s one way to put it,” Suki chuckled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she posed, on the defensive. 

“When I heard you were going to take on this project, I didn’t expect you developing a crush on the fire lord to be a part of it.”

Was it just early in the morning or was Suki not making any sense? “What are you talking about? What podcast were you listening to?”

“Today’s episode! You know, the one where you spent the entire time lecturing us on how Zuko is just a really great guy. When did these feelings develop? I’m offended I had to find out about this through the podcast!”

“I think you misunderstood…”

“No,” She could tell Suki was smiling, “I think I understood perfectly.”

“Agh, Suki! It isn’t like that. We’re just coworkers. Friends, maybe.”

“Riggght. Just like how Sokka and I were ‘just friends’ in college.”

Katara flopped back onto the bed, “Really, I think you just missed the point of the episode. The whole point of it is to get Kuei to back the fuck off of Zuko.”

“Aww, were you jealous?” Suki teased. 

“I’m being serious. Nothing is going on.” 

“Well, do you want there to be?”

“What? Of course not. I just… I just care about him is all. And I’m trying to help make things right.”

“If that’s what you say,” Suki responded doubtfully.

“Suki, listen, I’m tired…” 

“Alright, I’ll back off. It just sounded like there was something more there. That’s all.”

“And I appreciate the input. Hopefully I was able to clarify things for you.”

“Yeah, I believe you. But if feelings  _ do  _ develop, you can tell me about it. Just so you know.”

“Alright sure, Suki,” Katara said, itching to get off this phone call, “Thanks for the call.”

“Sure! Sorry it was so late. As always, the episode was a good listen.”

Katara shook her head in disbelief. “Thank you. See you later.”

Katara ended the call. 

She looked down at the time on her phone. 3:56 A.M. Grumbling to herself, she reset her essential oil diffuser, and turned on her sound machine (her favorite track list: calming ocean waves). She turned the light off, set her phone to Do Not Disturb, put on her sleep mask, and tried to pick up where she left off before the disruption.

She turned in the bed once, and then once more. What the hell was Suki talking about anyway? Katara’s podcast was about proving that Zuko was a good and capable leader. That was it. Somehow Suki read between lines (that were not there) and concluded that Katara had secret feelings for him. Suki must have been starving for drama because that was a stretch. 

Katara tried to focus on letting the waves lull her back to sleep. She wouldn’t let Suki get to her like this. She was going to enjoy the rest of her night, and wake up in the morning feeling refreshed. She became aware of her breathing, trying to force herself to direct her attention away from the phone call. She simply couldn’t. 

Enraged, she ripped off her sleep mask and flipped back the covers of the bed. Turning off her sleep aids, she instead pulled her phone up, loaded Spotify, and hit play on her most recent episode.

She listened to the whole thing. Twice. The finishing lines of the podcast played back to her over her phone. 

_ Zuko is brave. He’s brave, sympathetic, and it hurts me to see him feeling so helpless and alone. _

She listened to the end of the podcast, even through all of the outro music, until the room was silent once more. 

She clicked her phone off, and laid back in bed. She couldn’t deny that she had admitted feelings for the fire lord in the last episode, but it was still a jump to say that those feelings were romantic. She and Zuko got along well, certainly. They had become friends and were comfortable talking to each other on and off the record. 

Deep down, Katara would have to admit that she had at least thought about it before. It was hard not to when there were plenty of online “shippers” who made their opinions known. In these moments, Katara couldn’t help but think about how she and Zuko shared many of the same interests. These thoughts, when they bubbled up, were always abstract ideas that Katara assumed would never come to fruition. And it was best that they didn’t. This was a job. She had to remind herself of that. Katara prided herself on being a professional, and the last thing she wanted to do is let her own juvenile crush get in her way. 

She hadn’t let things get too out of control yet, thankfully. She hadn’t admitted anything significant to anyone. There was plenty of room for plausible deniability with that last podcast. 

She wrote it with the intention of helping him, nothing more, nothing less. She didn’t do anything wrong there. 

More importantly, Zuko would never listen to the podcast anyway. He wouldn’t have any reason to suspect that anything between them had changed. In his eyes, it was business as usual. And even if Zuko did know, there was no promise of reciprocation. She didn’t know if the fire lord was looking for something like that, and even if he was, there wasn’t any guarantee that he would find what he was looking for in her. 

She felt better knowing that she had these safeguards in place, preventing this from becoming inappropriate. She had stumbled, and maybe let herself become too comfortable with Zuko, but she would do better from here. She drew the line at friendship and would easily quit before she let it budge anywhere past that. 

Sunlight streamed through the curtains. Sleep evaded her and she admitted defeat, getting up and putting her robe on. She would get breakfast and spend the rest of her day planning how best to regain control of her situation. 

\-------

“…with the aid amount we discussed from our treasury, I estimate that the chief could fund a public clinic  _ and _ make long overdue repairs to the city’s infrastructure,” Zuko referenced the papers in front of him.

“That’s very brave and sympathetic of you,” said Jian, smirking at him over the rim of her glasses.

Zuko didn’t particularly like working with his council on a good day. Jian was irreverent, and always managed to prod at his deepest insecurities. Renshu typically spoke as little as possible, allowing his silent-but-still-obvious indignation to do the talking for him. Yat-Sen had a tendency to mistake him for his father during his senior moments, or else showed some awareness that Zuko wasn’t his father and loudly complained about it. Hansuke… well, it was probably for the best that there was now an empty chair where Minister Hansuke’s unhelpful presence used to be.

But at least he usually understood what his council was talking about. They might be obstinate, they might undermine his efforts wherever they could, they might show little or no respect for him as a leader, but normally Zuko could at least follow the conversation. Today, however, he couldn’t even say that much.

He sighed in exasperation. He allowed the papers to fall to his desk in a disorganized heap and fixed his eyes on Jian.

“What is that even supposed to mean?”

To his frustration, Renshu giggled. Renshu!  _ Giggled! _ Had he woken up in a parallel universe? Had he hit his head and forgotten about it? What was going on?

“My Lord, I’m really glad you found it in your heart to do this,” Renshu said, with what appeared to be sincerity. Zuko didn’t trust it one bit.

“A real leap of faith, you know?” Jian added before Zuko could interject. He was occupied glancing back and forth between them, searching for any clues their faces might betray. They were both maddeningly unreadable.

Beside him, Tomlin frowned.

“You guys, he doesn’t even know what you’re talking about,” Tomlin admonished.

“Know about what?” Zuko demanded. He was ignored.

“Well of course he doesn’t. He’s human and fallible, after all,” Jian taunted.

“We’re just commending him for trusting his instincts! He shouldn’t be punished for that,” Renshu snickered.

What in the world? Clearly something happened, something that nobody bothered to brief Zuko on. Why were they all talking like that? It sounded like they were reading off some nightmarish script they’d concocted just to torment him.

“He seriously doesn’t know, does he?” Jian scanned the room, bewildered, but her cheeky grin hadn’t faded.

“He doesn’t listen to it. He told me,” Tomlin countered.

“Listen to what?” Zuko huffed. Predictably, no one cared.

“How could he not listen to it? It’s about him!” Renshu pressed.

“I don’t know, he just doesn’t!” Tomlin shrieked.

“As your fire lord, I demand that someone tell me what’s going on! That’s an order!” Zuko boomed over the chatter. Enough was enough.

He’d successfully silenced their bickering, but still no one offered an explanation. Finally Jian stood from her seat at the table.

“My Lord, would you follow me to my office?”

Zuko did. He felt a bit like he was still being ordered around by the very people he was supposed to command, but he wanted answers more desperately than he wanted to preserve his dignity. It’s not like his council ever respected him in the first place.

He stepped into Jian’s messy office, shoved a pile of junk off of a nearby chair and onto the floor, took a seat, and waited.

“I take it you haven’t heard Katara’s latest episode?”

Of course. What Tomlin had said.  _ He doesn’t listen to it. He told me. _ Zuko should’ve known.

“No,” Zuko crossed his arms. “And I don’t want to. I promised Katara I wouldn’t.”

As Jian booted up her computer, she took a moment to give Zuko a perplexed glance.

“Why? I thought she’d want—“

Zuko didn’t feel like explaining the tension he and Katara initially experienced. It wasn’t any of Jian’s business anyway.

“She doesn’t, okay?”

Jian had swiveled her chair away from him. He peered over her shoulder at the screen. She was scrolling through the EKPR website. When she found what she was looking for, she plugged in her headphones and held them out to Zuko.

Zuko was aghast. “No! She doesn’t want me to listen to it. It would be a violation of her trust!”

“Yeah, you said that, but what I still don’t get is  _ why _ —“

“It’s about freedom of speech. She should be able to say whatever she wants to say about me without concerning herself with my reaction.”

Jian blinked at him. Eventually she turned back to the screen in front of her.

“Freedom of speech,” she muttered. “Those Earth Kingdom people have really done a number on you. Fine, don’t listen to it if you don’t want to. I just thought you’d want to know what everyone’s talking about.”

And that was the tricky part. Zuko  _ did  _ want to know what everyone was talking about. He wanted it dearly. This was far from the first episode, so whatever happened most recently must’ve been big if it generated all this gossip.

“Is it…?” Zuko ventured. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was trying to ask. “I mean… just tell me. Give me a summary of the important parts.”

Jian’s infuriating smirk had made a reappearance.

“I can’t. Won’t do it justice.”

“But—“

“You either listen for yourself, or you stay in the dark. Your choice.” She dangled the headphones tantalizingly close.

Somewhat disgusted with himself, Zuko accepted. He popped in the earbuds and situated himself at Jian’s desk. It was against his better judgment, without question, but he was just so curious.

“You’re not to breathe a word of this to anyone,” he snapped. Jian only smiled. She took the liberty of pressing ‘play’ for him.

Zuko wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it was enough for Jian to sit on her desk so that she could better watch Zuko’s face while he listened, grow bored of that, leave her office altogether, return, brew some tea with an electric kettle she kept dangerously close to a stack of paperwork (that was more than likely a fire hazard), and leave again. More importantly, it was enough time for Zuko’s entire outlook to change.

Katara thought he was a good person.

He was realizing that he never knew what Katara thought of him, not until now, anyway. He might’ve taken a guess based on how she interacted with him, but he didn’t exactly have a lot of experience reading people, and furthermore, Katara had every reason to treat the foreign dictator in whose palace she was living with a careful sort of politeness. 

If Zuko was being honest with himself, he’d admit that Katara was growing on him. Their sessions hadn’t felt like work in a long time, even when they strayed into difficult topics. He liked her. And he was pleased to learn that she liked him too.

How many people get an opportunity like this? Social interactions are hard. People are unpredictable. Surely tons of people have wished for an opportunity like this, for a confirmation that someone they liked indeed returned the sentiment, the information sourced through a strange third party conduit that meant they could avoid confronting each other about it. In Zuko’s case, that third party conduit was  _ The Burning Questions. _ He was flattered. Really, he was. Katara thought he was a good person, brave and sympathetic. He tried not to let his guilt over listening to the podcast taint his elation.

How could he face her after this? He knew things he shouldn’t. He knew her private feelings. Well, not private, exactly. She  _ had _ broadcast them on her podcast for the entire Earth Kingdom to hear. But they were meant to be private from him. Zuko wondered if she even fully understood what she’d done. By the end of the podcast, she sounded less in control of what she was saying. It seemed she’d gone off-script and started speaking from the heart. She’d made vulnerable her innermost feelings. It was all there, if you listened around the political jargon.

Moreover, her feelings concerned him specifically. Even if he put aside his guilt, how could he not act giddy next time he saw her? How could he resist trying to push their friendship even further, knowing full well she’d be amenable to it? He felt like he’d gained a superpower. It was both terrifying and electrifying. He could do anything, including hurt her without intending it. This truly was the best, worst news.

“Well?” Inquired Jian, who was suddenly leaning against the doorframe.

Zuko removed the headphones.

“This… changes things.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is going to a party! (And definitely not avoiding his problems) Also, Toph!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Language. A little worse than usual.

“One... two... three!”

Toph exhaled and released her grip around her opponent’s sweaty shoulder. She’d like to say that she was confident of her victory, but honestly, her skills had grown rusty and she wasn’t so sure.

It turns out she had nothing to worry about. Cultivating a personal brand was a complicated industry that seemed to involve doing a whole lot and not much at the same time. Apparently she could afford the time to resurrect her not-quite-retired wrestling persona every now and then.

Besides, Toph actually  _ liked _ wrestling. It’s not that she didn’t like her social media career. She did, most of the time. But fame for its own sake was confusing. Half of the time, Toph couldn’t tell when she was on the job. She spent most of her daylight hours doing the kinds of things she would normally do: working out, eating, lounging on picturesque private islands, shopping... and it was her job to share it with everyone? The result was a perpetual Monday-morning kind of feeling that chased her everyday of the week. Are you allowed to take a vacation when you’re never working? Or maybe you’re always working, but your vacation would just be more of the same? Toph didn’t know. But anyway, that’s why she liked wrestling. Wrestling definitely wasn’t a vacation, but it wasn’t quite work either. It was an outlet. A release. Wrestling made sense.

On the way to the locker room, she passed the Terrene Tigress, her opponent from earlier. Toph never found out her real name. She liked that about her league; they respected each other’s privacy. They all probably knew Toph’s real name, in fact, if they didn’t, it meant Toph’s personal brand was failing, but they all politely pretended not to. Toph was grateful.

“Hey Bandit, good match,” she called, pulling a fleece jacket over her leotard.

They were all sensibly dressed, as today’s had been only a practice match. During the real matches their outfits catered a bit more to the male gaze. Some of the women complained, but Toph never minded much. It wasn’t only because she couldn’t actually see the outfits. Toph’s upbringing led her to approach her entire life like a performance, and as such, she was constantly catering to someone. Know your audience, and elicit what you want from them. In this case her audience happened to be an eclectic mix of female sports enthusiasts and horny men. So what? Just another audience. If they paid good money to watch women in tight clothes hurl rocks at each other (and they did), Toph could hardly complain.

Early on, Toph had tried to keep her wrestling persona a secret. She was Toph Freaking Beifong after all, daughter of Lao and Poppy Beifong, Earth Kingdom royalty, albeit by some distant offshoot lineage. There was no room for rock slices and cunt punches in her high society lifestyle. 

But her dirty little secret was a PR disaster waiting to happen and she knew it. It would be worse, she figured, for the public to find out through anyone other than her. So she decided to get a step ahead of the paparazzi. After practice one day, she made an appearance at a Trader Jiao’s on fifteenth street. Inevitably the press found her, like bumble flies to honey.

“Ms. Beifong, why are you wearing that leotard?” A voice called out, nearly drowned by its competitors and the torrent of camera flashes.

“Oh, this?” Toph snapped her shoulder strap and struck a pose. “I’m in a women’s earth-wrestling league.”

And that was that. Let her parents go as ballistic as they liked.

She was still something of an amateur back then. It had been prudent to come clean when she did, as the league took off after that. Granted, only in certain demographics, but Earth Rumble VI developed a devoted cult following. Someone was bound to recognize her. She preferred to command her own public image, rather than allow it to command her.

Publically, her parents chose to remain suspiciously silent on the matter. Privately, as Toph predicted, they were irate.

_ “Earth-wrestling?” _ Her mother had snapped when they summoned her to the family estate. “Really Toph? You’ll do anything to punish us, won’t you?”

“I’m not punishing anyone!” Toph retorted, “I happen to enjoy it!”

“Oh, you enjoy rolling around in the dirt with  _ those _ sorts of women, do you?” Her father chimed in.

“‘Those sorts of women?’ You mean athletes?”

“Toph, sweetie, respectable as those women may or may not be, (“May! They’re perfectly respectable!” Toph interjected.) they don’t have a public image to consider. The people have an idea of who you are, an idea of who we are as a family, and it’s all of our duties to maintain that,” her mother explained.

“You mean like when you maintained to the public that I’m weak and fragile because I’m blind? Like that?”

“Toph—”

“I’ve already shattered one public image of myself. I can do it again.”

She was right, of course. Toph was the first to admit that her career path zigzagged and looped around, but if there was a single consistency to be found in it, it was defying expectations.

“I don’t understand how a blind person could ever manage a social media presence,” Toph’s prospective sponsors had told her, in the beginning. She supposed highlighting her disability was their way of letting her down easy. They had no idea what they were talking about. All she needed was VoiceOver software and a series of personal assistants. I mean come on. Even seeing-people didn’t manage their own social media, at least not the ones with any influence.

Nowadays the joke was on them. She had a plethora of sponsors. Granted, it helped to come from a filthy rich family to begin with, not only to cover the costs of things like personal assistants and photo shoots, but also because it created a sense of intrigue. The Beifongs (as well as the more prominent branches of the royal family) had a tendency to lead very secluded, private lives. They made appearances when it suited them, but every glimpse the public received was calculated, lest her parents be seen as anything other than dignified and cultured. Toph gave the people what they wanted: a good look into the charmed life of a royal. At least, that’s how she started, back when she revealed to the world that her blindness wasn’t a weakness. When the novelty of a blind-but-fully-capable celebrity wore off, she reinvented herself as a wrestler. That hadn’t entirely worn off yet, at least not for its devoted fanbase, but still. Toph needed to be contemplating who Toph 3.0 was going to be. So far, the answer seemed to be herself, just behind a camera. Evidently, her fans connected with that. They found her to be delightfully irreverent and unapologetically real. Whatever that meant.

Her personal brand wasn’t all she was planning at the moment. She had a side project: her annual sabotage of her parents’ stupid holiday party. The Beifong Spring Equinox party had a history longer than the entirety of Toph’s existence. She recalled making forced appearances as a little girl. Her parents dressed her in itchy, voluminous, child-sized gowns and paraded her about, persuading her to make pleasantries with the adult guests, who, supposedly, thought she was “just the cutest little thing!” As an adult, she spent several years avoiding the party like the pentapox plague just to make a statement. Now, she had moved onto a more subtle and sophisticated mode of undermining her uptight parents and their ridiculous party.

She’d go. She’d even wear a nice dress. (It didn’t hurt that designer brands literally paid her to go places in their merchandise). But she’d spend the entire night poaching her parents’ stuffy guests for her very own viper-batshit crazy afterparty. Who knew, maybe she could convince the new fire lord to come. If she accomplished that, her father might actually have an aneurysm. It would be glorious.

\-------

There was a soft click. Then the red light came on, blinking steadily, heralding the beginning of their interview, like it always did.

“Well, Fire Lord Zuko, let’s jump right in. How are you feeling about your alliance with the Southern Water Tribe?” Katara began, newscaster-like.

Zuko replied amiably, “I am feeling optimistic. There are political factions, in and outside of the Fire Nation, who disapprove of my decision, but I feel confident that I have made the correct choice.”

“There are rumors that your decision was heavily influenced by the possible independence movement brewing in the Southern Water Tribe. How do you respond to those rumors?”

Zuko smiled, just a little. Podcast listeners would have no idea, of course, so Katara knew the smile was only for her. “Well, it is my understanding that the independence movement itself is something of a rumor, yes? Chief Hakoda has yet to make any public statements about his attitude towards it.”

Privately, they both knew better of Hakoda’s opinions. But this was for the public, and they were something of co-conspirators now. It made Zuko feel pleasantly jittery.

“That’s true,” Katara good-naturedly conceded. “Tell me about how you’re dealing with the backlash against your newly formed alliance. One of your ministers stepped down because of it, is that correct?”

“Certainly. Yes, Minister Hansuke gave me his resignation not too long ago. He provided me with no time to prepare his replacement, but I do not yet consider it a pressing concern. He did not have the position for very long anyway. He was appointed when the Earth Kin—ah, after my coronation.”

Zuko still made occasional blunders like that, allusions to the raid on the palace, tinged with his lingering resentment. That was okay. Katara could edit around that.

“Your more pressing concerns being your alliance with the Southern Water Tribe?”

Katara did not ask him about Iroh, or Azula, or the whirlwind that was the last couple of weeks.

“Yes, among other things.”

Zuko did not mention that among those other things were Iroh, Azula, and the whirlwind that was the last couple of weeks.

“So, Zuko, many of our Earth Kingdom listeners are probably unfamiliar with the structure of the Fire Nation’s government. Does Minister Hansuke’s resignation put a significant strain on the other ministers? Can you give me an overview of how your council is organized?”

Zuko lightly chewed his bottom lip, as he sometimes did when pondering a question. Katara did not think about Suki’s teasing remarks.

“Sure. The fire lord’s council is collectively the second link in the chain of command. Their individual power is all equal to that of one another. There is a minister of war, a minister of finance, a minister of domestic affairs, and a minister of international relations. They all answer directly to me. There are other, minor ministers beneath them, as well as other courtiers who all play their respective roles, but the structure becomes very convoluted beyond my immediate royal council.”

“Okay, thanks for that. Now let’s shift our conversation to your upcoming plans. You’ve been invited to return to the Earth Kingdom. Can you tell me about that?”

“Right, yes! This time the invitation is not under the pretense of politics, but instead it is for a party. Lao and Poppy Beifong have invited me to attend their annual Spring Equinox party. I have been led to believe that this is a noteworthy event in the Earth Kingdom, yes?”

It was. The Beifong Spring Equinox party boasted wealthy and highly influential attendees from around the world, both from the political sphere and otherwise, though Zuko would be the first attendee from the Fire Nation. It was a chance to be seen in statement-making outfits and to network with the Earth Kingdom’s upper crust. Katara’s listeners would have already known that. You’d have to have lived under a rock, or well, lived a sheltered life of disgrace in a totalitarian dictatorship like Zuko had, to not know that.

“And you’ve accepted their invitation?”

“Yes I have. I very much enjoyed the city of Ba Sing Se during my last visit. I am excited to return.”

“This seems like a good stopping place,” Katara announced, dropping her professional manner. She turned off the recorder. “Next episode we can talk about your experience at the party. Actually, I wanted to ask you about that…”

“Alright?” Zuko prompted, alert and attentive.

“The Beifong party has always had a strict no-press policy, and as you know, invitations are hard to come by… but I read your invitation, and I guess you’re allowed to bring a plus-one?”

“That’s true,” Zuko answered. He knew perfectly well where Katara was going with this, but he didn’t need her to know that. He did not think about Jian and Renshu’s teasing remarks.

“Right… well, I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, but I was thinking you could take me as your plus-one? Not as a date, obviously! As friends. And to sidestep the no-press policy. It could be fun, like breaking the rules without actually breaking them. I’d be like an undercover journalist.”

To Katara’s immense relief, Zuko’s face broke into a grin.

“I would very much like that.”

“Great!”

“Great.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party like it’s 100 AG 
> 
> CW: Drug use (nothing bad happens)
> 
> (Also, please see the notes at the end for a surprise!)

Dozens of brilliant lights flashed at her. She blinked through the holes in her vision to aim a half-smile at the sea of reporters and photographers threatening to break past the security guards and barricades. For the first time, she was on the other side of the barrier. She tried to not let her inexperience show through, and stared into the flashing lights with a smile plastered on her face. 

They shouted at her in response. 

“Katara, look over here! To your right!!”

“Pose!” 

“Hey! Fire Lord, give us a smile!” 

She glanced over at Zuko, who was squinting against the bright lights and scowling slightly. She couldn’t help but crack a smile at his discomfort. Cameras flashed, capturing her amusement. She was ready to go inside, and by the looks of Zuko, so was he. 

He looked back at her and she gestured her head towards the door. He nodded and followed her down the red carpet to the grand entrance into Beifong Family Estate. Walking past the throngs of reporters, she could have sworn she saw another employee for EKPR. The one who took over her job for _ International Hour. _She wondered what he was doing talking to Earth Kingdom superstar, Lady Geode, and what that had to do with international politics. Didn’t matter. She directed her attention forward, and began climbing the stairs leading up to the Beifong household. 

Upon reaching the top, they were greeted by a doorman, who invited them into the mansion with a polite wave. Entering the house, caterers descended upon the two of them, offering fizzing drinks carefully balanced on silver platters. Katara took two flutes of champagne and passed one to the fire lord beside her.

A velvet carpet guided them into a hallway. Statues lined the walls on each side of the two of them. The statues were elegantly positioned with their arms outstretched towards the end of the hallway that gave way to the main ballroom. Upon closer inspection of these figures, Katara realized they weren’t statues at all, but performance artists. Their eyes all were closed, and faces painted over, but the intermittent twitch tipped her off. The Beifongs spared no expense.

The hallway opened up into the ballroom in all of its grandeur. The room was everything that Katara had expected it to be; the central chandelier, the gold and green ceiling and the painstaking detail put into every inch of the room lended it a rococo feel that was classically Earth Kingdom old money. It was a grotesque display of wealth that Katara couldn’t help but be dazzled by.

She leaned over to Zuko and whispered, “And we thought the Fire Nation palace was stuck up.” 

Zuko snorted out his drink and Katara laughed good-naturedly.

She nudged him along and they made their way around the room. Katara took on her usual role of explaining who was who and Zuko, like clockwork, listened attentively. 

“Fire Lord Zuko, what a surprise,” Prime Minister Kuei called from behind them, “And Katara too. Hello.” 

  
Zuko clenched up next to her and turned to face Kuei, “No one said I was not allowed to attend.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry. I’m not here to yell at you. This is a party, after all. I’m trying to enjoy it while it lasts.” he raised his drink up to his lips. Was he tipsy? 

Zuko looked at Katara and then back at Kuei, “While it lasts?”

“I’m up for reelection this year. Didn’t you know? If I don’t swing public opinion back in my favor, then I’ll be out and this will be my last invite to the Beifong party.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed. Which is why matters like two of the Earth Kingdom’s biggest allies turning against each other are so important to lay to rest.”

Zuko pursed his lips but stayed silent. 

“Don’t get me wrong—and this stays here, alright? Off the record,” he leveled Katara with a firm stare, “I respect you standing your ground on the whole Southern Water Tribe thing. It takes some serious guts. You have the makings of a decent leader.”

“Oh, well thank you,” Zuko responded hesitantly. 

Kuei nodded encouragingly, “And of course, with that being said, I’d appreciate it if you put an end to it.” 

“Er...no?”

Katara held back a laugh. Kuei cracked a smile. He patted Zuko on his shoulder. “Enjoy the party,” he said and then drifted away from the pair.

Once Kuei was out of earshot, Katara commented, “That was odd.”

Zuko nodded in agreement, looking a bit bewildered.

After they both recovered from their bizarre conversation with Kuei, they continued to make their way through the crowd of guests and waiters. They did a bit of mingling before a single violinist began playing over the cacophony of voices.

“I think that is supposed to signal that dinner is about to start.”

A server appeared next to them and offered to escort them to their table. They moved around the full symphonic orchestra that had slowly joined in with the violinist. When the center of the room cleared as guests made their way to their seats, a group of ballroom dancers began to perform.

Katara looked down at the meal in front of them. A placard next to the dish explained the first course of salad, featuring among other ingredients, a polished truffle and thirty year old balsamic vinegar. Katara picked up her fork, but before she could dive in, the older woman next to her put a hand on her leg, “Oh sweetie, no one actually eats at these things. It’s just for show,” she winked, “I thought I would save you from a major faux pas.”

Katara looked around the room and confirmed that, in fact, no one else was indulging in the meal set in front of them. No one, except for Toph Beifong. She sat at the table at the front of the ballroom, reserved for the Beifong elite. Katara watched as Toph washed down a large bite of the salad with a chug of champagne.

Katara looked back to the woman next to her, shrugged, and started eating anyway. Zuko followed suit. It tasted just as decadent as it looked. She settled into the table and enjoyed the different courses that the waiters put in front of her. 

It was in the midst of her enjoying her dessert that she heard a loud crash from the front of the room. Katara looked up and saw Toph stumbling drunkenly near what used to be, she presumed, an ice sculpture. The room went quiet. Two of the Beifongs, who Katara recognized to be Toph’s parents, got up from their table and made their way over to Toph. Poppy Beifong put her arm around Toph’s shoulders and addressed the room, “My apologies, everyone. My poor daughter is blind and it isn’t uncommon for her to run into things. By all means, let the festivities commence!”

The music started back up again, as did the chattering. Katara watched as Toph ripped herself out of her mother’s grip and stormed off. Poppy laughed nervously and checked to see if anyone was watching before making her way back to her seat.

“Who was that?” Zuko leaned in to ask. 

“Toph Beifong. I think I mentioned her before? She’s a Beifong, but she doesn’t really fit in with the rest of them. She’s a big social media influencer. Wrestles too,”

Zuko gave her a confused look “Yet she is blind?”

“Yeah, it's a long story. She’s much more capable than her parents make her out to be, apparently. She can use her bending to see.” 

“So when she knocked over the statue, that was—”

“Just because she’s drunk.”

Zuko nodded, “Families are hard.”

Before they knew it, the tables were cleared. Everyone else at the table left. Zuko asked, “What are we supposed to do next?” 

“Well… It looks like most people are joining in on the dancing. Everyone else seems to still be enjoying tantalizing conversation about how rich they are. So those are our options.” 

“I’d prefer that we talk about how rich we are,” Zuko responded, a smile playing on his lips. 

Just as she was about to quip back, a chair scraped loudly right next to them. Toph sat down. “Ya’ll don’t mind if I join you, do you? Good.” She sat down. 

She guessed that Zuko wouldn’t know how to respond to that, so Katara spoke up, “um, sure. This is Fire Lord Zuko and I’m—” 

“I know who you are, sugar tits. I haven’t been living under a rock.”

Katara laughed awkwardly, “Alright, well hello.”

“Hey. You guys having as much fun as I am?” When the two of them didn’t respond, Toph continued, “Of course you aren’t. You’re over here hiding from the rest of the party.”

Zuko spoke up, “We did not mean to offend you. This is our first time here and I do not know most of the guests.”

“Nah, I’m not critiquing you. This sucks,” she picked up a random drink from the table and finished it off, “Are you guys coming to the party later?”

“Party… later? Is this not the party?” Zuko asked. 

“Ugh, no. I always have a party at my place with people who don’t actually suck after these things.”

“I didn’t know we were invited.”

“Sure, you should come. Here,” she handed Katara her phone, “find my home address in the GPS and text it to yourself.”

Katara did and then handed the phone back to Toph. “Thanks for the invite.”

“No probs. I’m heading out of here. I might die from boredom if I stay any longer. Deuces.” And with that she got up and walked away. 

Katara looked to Zuko. “Would you want to go?” 

Zuko, surprisingly looked intrigued, and responded “I do not see why not.”

\--------

Toph’s afterparty was a party in the truest sense. It was the kind of party that could be heard before it could be seen. The kind of party that beckoned its patrons to just join in, and let the dim lighting and pounding music do their thinking for them. It was the kind of party Zuko would never have been allowed near growing up. These kinds of parties epitomized the classlessness and promiscuity of the people of the Earth Kingdom, so he was told. And now he was at one.

He hesitated at the threshold. 

“We don’t have to stay. We can just say hi to Toph and then leave if you want,” Katara assured him.

“If we can even find her,” Zuko muttered.

They’d barely stepped inside when Toph found them.

“You made it!” She was loud, even for someone trying to talk over the ambient noise. She turned on Zuko. “Hey, you’re not getting cold feet on me, are you? You know what? I have something for that.”

Zuko didn’t know how people like her always seemed to sniff out his self-doubt. It was bad enough to feel awkward at a party. It was even worse to have an extrovert breathing down your neck about it. Wait, she said she had something for that?

He gripped Katara by the forearm and urged, “What did she mean by that? She has something for me?”

Katara chuckled, “Zuko, I think she means that she—”

Toph reappeared, and shoved what felt like two ceramic beads into his palm.

“For you and your plus-one. Loosen up, buddy,” she winked, and the effect was somewhat uncanny on her vacant, milky eyes.

Zuko frowned at the tiny pale discs in his hand.

“I will if you will,” came Katara’s voice from over his shoulder.

Seriously? They didn’t even know what these were. Zuko didn’t, at least. What if something bad happened?

“You don’t have to!” She added quickly. “I’m just saying. It might be a nice break from real life, you know?”

When Zuko didn’t reply, she piped up again.

“Toph’s not gonna poison the fire lord at her own party, you know.”

Maybe she was right. It wasn’t like he had any experience to draw on. Heck, he’d never really even had fun before. Maybe it was time to stop saying ‘no’ to things.

Before he had time to reconsider, he tipped the pill back and swallowed it. He felt some satisfaction at Katara’s astonished face. Hopefully he wouldn’t regret it.

“Yeah. Alright then. Let’s jump right in,” she exclaimed, and then followed suit. Together they pushed through the jungle of people.

After they had wandered some, Katara caught his attention and shouted over the music.

“Have you ever done anything like this before?”

Of course he hadn’t. When would he have? Being disgraced at age thirteen ensured that he would never have the opportunity. They didn’t have music like this in the Caldera either, not that he had ever heard. The heavy bass rattled the walls and floor, reverberating through his bones. It was more feeling than it was sound.

He found Katara looking at him expectantly and realized he hadn’t answered her. He had only rehearsed doing it in his mind.

“Uh, no. Never. You?” He had to get right upon her to be heard. His face was half buried in her neck.

“Not really,” she boomed, even though he could only just make out what she was saying. “I wasn’t really the party type in college. Are you having fun?”

He realized that he kind of was. The party was such an overwhelming experience, assaulting every one of his senses with its thundering music and multicolored lights, and so he was surprised to find that there was a strange privacy in it. Nobody wanted anything from him. They were here for the same reason he was, to take comfort in the anonymity of the chaos.

He never replied to Katara’s question, and she appeared to have forgotten about it.

Toph strode toward them, or rather, it looked like she was teleporting in small bursts. With each flash of the strobe lights she was several feet closer than she’d been before, but stood seemingly stationary.

“Everything good?” She yelled, except her voice didn’t emanate from her mouth. It came from all around him, or perhaps from inside his head.

He and Katara must’ve made affirmative gestures, because she went on to say, “you guys should dance!”

Oh no. Zuko didn’t dance. He told them so, even though it was a lie, sort of. He was a very good dancer actually. He could waltz, quickstep, even tango.

Zuko watched the cluster of bodies on the dance floor. Their movements were fluid and seductive. They only needed instinct and the beat of the drums. Zuko was graceful enough, but only when he had rules to adhere to. His kind of dancing was a matter of counting and thinking. And he wasn’t about to embarrass himself by bringing that sort of pastime into a place like this.

“What do you mean you don’t dance? Just move your hips!”

His trepidation aside, he honestly wasn’t sure that he could. His muscles felt like they were dripping.

He became aware of Katara yanking on his wrist, guiding him gently in the direction of the dance floor.

“Just one song, okay?” She coaxed, “to appease Toph.” Was she blushing, or were the changing lights distorting her face?

Zuko was impressed that she could discern where the songs ended and began. To him it was just the never-ending electronic heartbeat of the party.

He let himself be led into the crowd. Katara started to dance, and Zuko started to do some approximation of what everyone else was doing. He couldn’t have been that far off; he didn’t feel anyone staring at him.

It was actually kind of fun. It was like fading into the background and being the center of attention at the same time. He melted into the undulating mass with other dancers. He forgot to worry about how stupid he probably looked.

They danced for more than one song, at least, Zuko thought that they must have. He still couldn’t tell one from the other, but he found it hard to believe that a single track would go on for this long.

All of the sudden his energy depleted and he felt suffocated by the density of people around him.

“Do you want to go breathe some air?” He suggested. He had a suspicion that wasn’t quite how the phrase was supposed to go, but he didn’t care.

“Yeah!” Katara grinned at him with a flushed face. “Air sounds nice.”

Toph’s backyard was as overstated as the rest of her house. Actually, to call it a yard at all felt grossly misleading. There was a covered patio, a hot tub, a pool, and a handsomely groomed geometric garden. There was also a bar, but Zuko had to assume that had been brought out especially for the party, and wasn’t a regular feature. Probably. With Toph, who really knew?

They took a seat near the pool. Katara slipped off her heels and let her bare feet dangle in the shallow end. The pool’s blue light illuminated her cheekbones from below, giving her an otherworldly countenance. She looked like she was underwater, even though she was perfectly dry from the ankles up.

She kicked her feet around in an elliptical motion, and eventually Zuko was tempted enough to set aside his socks and shoes and join her. He probably didn’t look very dignified with his slacks rolled up to his knees, but that didn’t matter. The water felt too nice.

“I’m glad I met you,” he blurted, unsure why he said it. The thought just bubbled to the surface of his mind too fast for him to stop it.

She smiled at him, slowly, like she had to journey back from the end of a long train of thought to address him properly.

“I’m glad I met you too.”

———

“I’m glad I met you too,” she replied. She didn’t have to think too much about it, because it was just true. She _ was _ glad she met Zuko. Where would she be right now without him? She’d be fine, obviously, but her life would be more or less the same it had been a year ago, or even two or three years ago. _ The Burning Questions _ changed her life in so many unexpected ways.

She never imagined she’d care about him.

She leaned toward him, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was leaning toward her as well.

———

Someone, Toph couldn’t remember who, suggested they play possum chicken in the pool. Water wasn’t within Toph’s comfort zone, but she agreed to go outside with them anyway.

“Look!” She heard someone else in her posse gasp when they made their way to the patio. “Is that...?”

Toph couldn’t look, of course, but she could see it with her feet. The fire lord and the journalist were kissing by the poolside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a small treat for you guys this week. I was messing around on Procreate and ended up doodling Modern AU Toph. 
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/keysmashjones/art/Modern-AU-Toph-835976346?ga_submit_new=10%3A1585710448
> 
> Furthermore, one of my awesome readers, Srebrenakrv, drew this really cool picture of Zuko, and you should check that out as well! (I meant to promote this on chapter 18, but life got super busy and I forgot! Sorry, Srebrenakrv!) 
> 
> https://mesencephaleisole.tumblr.com/post/612436929236156416/zuzu-doing-politics-inspired-by-pure-gold-of-a-fic


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara does some (over)thinking.

“Here is my formal letter of resignation,” Katara slid the letter across Zuko’s office desk towards him. 

“W-what?” She ignored the betrayed look in Zuko’s eyes. She had to get this done so she could get out of here. 

“Thank you for your time. I… I really enjoyed working with you.”

“Katara, if this is about last night, you do not — ” 

“I wish you all the best moving forward,” she interrupted before he could say anymore. “You’re a great leader. I know the Fire Nation is in capable hands.” 

Zuko looked like his mind was moving a mile a minute. As soon as he looked like he had formed something he wanted to say, he stopped himself. 

“Goodbye, Fire Lord Zuko.”

Zuko blinked at her, surprise and pain etched into his face. “Good-goodbye.”

She paused to look him over one last time before she turned and left his office. 

It was hard to believe how much had happened over the past twenty-four hours. 

The morning after the party, despite waking up from a nightmarish hangover, Katara was able to relish in a blissful moment of ignorance, the events of the night prior forgotten. She sat up in her bed, and checked her phone to see what time it was. She was greeted by dozens of texts and missed calls. Cheng, Sokka, Suki, her father… everyone had tried to reach her. Hoping everything was okay, she clicked the phone open and checked on Cheng’s messages first. He kept it simple with just two texts. The first was a text consisting of only question marks. The second was a picture of the front cover of the Ba Sing Se Post, which featured a picture of Zuko and Katara. At Toph’s party. In front of the pool. 

She scrambled to her feet. She had kissed Zuko. Worse, someone got a picture of it. 

No. No, no, no. no, no. 

That was when everything started moving quickly. She wrote her letter of resignation in her bed, got dressed, and made her way to Zuko’s office. Then she resigned. 

Why would she put herself through all of this, you ask? Well, that was easy. Katara could longer ignore her feelings, not anymore. She kissed Zuko. And now she had to deal with not only her unignorable feelings, but also the photo evidence of it that had been blasted across all of the major Earth Kingdom news outlets. Now Zuko knew, and so did the rest of the world. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore. She developed feelings for Zuko. Game over. 

The worst part was that she didn’t even understand how she got here. Her job was to get Zuko to open up. To do that, of course they had to form some sort of relationship! The relationship changing from one of a functional coworker dynamic to something more romantic in nature just sort of happened. It had never been a problem in the past. She had her fair share of clients that she worked with for her podcasts, and nothing like this had ever even crossed her mind. Things were just effortless with Zuko. She couldn’t control it. Even worse, she couldn’t work around it. How could she write anything unbiased about him now? 

It doesn’t matter though. Her intentions didn’t change the fact that she compromised her journalistic integrity. Katara lost sight of what mattered. She wasn’t about to give up her job doing what she loved because of some foolish flight of fancy. No more of that. From this point onward, Katara promised herself that this time, when she went back to the Earth Kingdom, she’d throw herself into her work, kick ass, and then come home. No strings attached, no feelings hurt.

She packed her bags and scheduled the next available flight out of the Fire Nation. She made calls to everyone who had messaged her that morning. She apologized to her family. They told her that she had nothing to apologize for. They were obligated to say that. She asked Sokka to pick her up and he hesitantly agreed. He asked her if she was okay. She told him that of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? 

She called Cheng last and told him that she would be coming home. He gave her the most resistance of the lot. 

“Katara, are you sure you want to do this? _ The Burning Questions _ is your baby… This doesn’t have to change anything. We can do damage control,” He pleaded with her. 

“No. I don’t want to be able to jeopardize my job like that and get away with it. I refuse to be the journalist with a reputation for getting too close to her coworkers. What's done is done.”

Cheng remained silent for several beats. “Alright…” He cautiously replied, “Well what are your plans now?”

“I want to come home. I’ll take another position at EKPR,” she concluded. 

“Right, well when you get here we can talk about that. I have to see what position we might be able to give you...” he drifted off.

“Sure, I can meet whenever. Send me an email with a time and place and I’ll be there.”

“I want you to really think about this, Katara. No one is calling you an ineffective journalist. People actually seem to be taking the news of your relationship quite well.”

“It wasn’t a relationship,” Katara snapped, “And what people are saying about it isn’t why I have to do this. I know it was wrong and that is all that matters.”

“Alright, alright,” she could hear the exhaustion in his voice, “Then I’ll see you when you’re in town. In the meantime, don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Thanks Cheng. See you.”

The plane ride home was quicker than she wanted. She stared out the window of the plane, earphones in, and watched as the Caldera, and everything that it represented, slipped out of view. Given the privacy of a mostly empty plane, she succumbed to the storm brewing in her gut, and for the first time in a long time, she cried. 

\-------------

Katara watched Sokka wrestle her luggage into the back of his car. He brought the car that he normally used for Ubering so that he could pass through the normal pick-up area and wait for Katara in the zone for rideshare vehicles only. He truly thought of everything. 

After he loaded everything into the car and closed the trunk with a heavy thud, he reached over to Katara and gave her a firm hug. “Welcome home, sis.”

“It's nice to be back,” she lied. Kind of. 

They got into the car and Sokka fought his way back from the airport and into the city. She was quiet throughout most of the ride. It was like seeing the Earth Kingdom with new eyes all over again. Although in the grand scheme of things, her time in the Fire Nation was short, she still felt the whole experience had shifted her perspective in a way that made the ground under her feel unstable. Would things ever return to normal? 

She didn’t know what she was going to do. She didn’t have a place to stay or a car or even a stable job yet. She hated how dependent on other people she would have to be. There wasn’t anything she could do about it, either. She did this to herself. 

She swallowed her pride and spoke up finally, “Do you mind if I crash at your place for a little while? Until I get back on my feet?”

“Sure! Of course. What's mine is yours!” Sokka replied automatically, “Plus, Suki would love that. She’s always complaining about how hard it is living with all of us boys.”

“Okay. Yeah. Thank you…”

They arrived at the house and got Katara’s things sorted into the bedroom. It didn’t take too long. She only had a couple of suitcases. There were a couple times in the process that Katara looked up and saw Suki nudging Sokka conspiratorially. After she caught a glimpse of it the third time, she spoke up, “Is everything alright?”

Sokka cleared his throat, “Yeah! Yes,” he scratched his head, “We just wanted you to know that it’s okay if you want to talk about what happened.” She looked from Sokka to Suki who was nodding along encouragingly.

She felt herself getting defensive. They were treating her like she was a child. She was a grown-ass woman. She could handle a little bit of heartbreak. More than anything, she just wanted to be left alone. 

Still, they were just trying to help and she couldn’t isolate herself from everyone. Lashing out like a wild animal wouldn’t do her any good. It certainly wouldn’t convince them that she was okay. 

“Okay. Thank you. I don’t think I want to talk about it right now, but I’ll let you know,” she responded diplomatically. 

They nodded and, after they confirmed that she had everything she needed, they left her alone with her thoughts. 

\----------

The next day, she made her way to EKPR. She arrived early so as to avoid running into the rest of the staff. And she knew Cheng would be there. He always was. So when she knocked on his office door and he responded with a cheerful “come in!” she was not surprised. 

He got up and hugged her when he saw her, “Katara! Hi. Welcome home!” 

“Thanks Cheng. It’s good to be back,” she responded.

“How are you hanging in there? Are you okay?”

Spirits, she wished people would stop asking her that. “I’m good, yeah! Ready to get back to work.”

“Right.. About that…”   
  


“What have you got for me?” She sat across from him. 

“Well, I’m sure you know that we had to shut down  _ International Hour _ ? We weren’t getting enough listeners to justify the full staff.”

“Right, I did hear about that. I’m sorry that got cut. But I don’t have to go back to international politics. I’ll honestly take whatever you have.”

Cheng grimaced. “We might have an open position in the basement?”

The basement. That was where all the entry level researchers worked. They did a lot of fact-checking and proofreading and document summaries. It was a scut job with a high turn-around. Everyone hated it there. 

“Oh,” Katara deflated. “There isn’t anything else…?”

“Not right now, I’m afraid… We weren’t really expecting this to happen and I can’t really force someone out of their current position for you.”

“Of course not, yeah,” Katara reeled. “Okay. I’ll take the research job. I don’t mind.”

Cheng sighed. “Okay. I’ll let them know. I’m sorry, Katara. If there was anything I could do, you know I would. Things are just hard.”

“No, it’s fine! I’ll make it work. I appreciate you giving me another chance.” 

What she wouldn’t do to go back to how things were a week ago. 

\----------------

Katara started work the next day. Instead of taking the normal elevator trip up and onto the 8th floor, where her old office used to be, she took it down into the basement. Everyone stared at her while she made her way through the aisles between the desks to find where she would be sitting. 

She looked down at her first assignment. She was to read the reports from the Beifong party and generate a summary. Great. She got to reading. She still felt everyone’s eyes on her. She gave a few of them nasty looks. It felt good. She looked back down at the paper and took a deep breath. She just had to suck it up, write the summary, and move on. She did just that. 

Glad that that was over, she moved onto her next task. A biography of all of the ministers in the fire lord’s council. Wonderful. 

\---------------

After a couple days of work, she came home, worn to the bone, and made her way into her bedroom. Without bothering to change out of her work clothes, she dropped onto her bed, and closed her eyes.

She opened her eyes to a room much darker than it was when she closed them. She checked the clock. 9:30pm. Shit, she had fallen asleep. 

She got up and changed into her pajamas. Her stomach growled. It was too late at night to have dinner, but fuck it. What did she have to lose? She left the bedroom and made her way into the kitchen. 

Passing by the living room, Katara saw that Suki and Sokka were still awake and sitting on the couch watching TV together. She didn’t want to interrupt their family time, and wasn’t particularly in a talking mood anyway so she decided to try and sneak by unnoticed. 

She paused when she saw what they were watching on the screen. Zuko walked through a crowd of reporters, microphones shoved up to his face. He tried to shield himself with his hands and turn away from the crowd. Through the yells of the reporters, she heard him mumble “no comment” before a guard intervened and started pushing the crowd back. 

_ Fire Lord Zuko has remained alarmingly quiet when asked to comment about the recent string of palace employees’ resignations. Here to discuss whether the nature of the fire lord’s relationships with his employees borders on inappropriate is our host…  _

She walked into the kitchen in a huff. From the other room, she heard that someone quickly changed the channel and then Suki, in a hushed voice, asked, “Do you think she heard?” 

She closed her eyes and leaned against the counter. Could she just have one day without having to think about how much she screwed up? Not only did it seem like the entirety of the Earth Kingdom had something to say about it, but she also had to go through all of it in front of brother and sister-in-law. 

As an added bonus, she was now trapped in the kitchen. She didn’t want to face them. But she had to do something or else one of them was going to come in and ask if she was okay. She grabbed an apple from the kitchen and quickly maneuvered from the kitchen to the hallway, and slid back into her bedroom. 

She slammed the door shut, and leaned against it. Where did her life go so wrong? One moment she was a successful career woman, living in the city, and working the job of her dreams. The next, she was working a dead-end job, leeching off of her brother, and sleeping in her nephew’s bedroom.

It couldn’t get worse than this.

…Could it? 

\------------

Reporters found out where Katara had been staying. She was able to go a while without a trail of reporters stalking her by avoiding leaving the house whenever she could. Until now, no one in the press knew exactly where her brother lived. She preferred it that way. She kept every precaution to protect her and her family. When she went to work, she carpooled with Suki to avoid public transportation. She never went to restaurants, and if she suspected a reporter was on her tail, she would avoid going home until she felt like she was alone again. That way, she had remained relatively unscathed. 

No longer, the jig was up. A full crowd had set up camp on the front lawn of Sokka and Suki’s house. 

Suki peaked out of the kitchen curtains. 

Katara sat at the counter and watched Suki peevishly, “I’m so sorry… I can go out and try to get rid of them if it helps?”

“No, that would just give them what they want.” 

“Maybe I should move out. I shouldn’t drag you into the mess that I made.” 

“Nah, it’s not your fault. It’s fucked up they’re stalking you like this. One of our neighbors must have snitched. The old hag across the way has always had something against us. I blame her,” Suki responded decisively.

“I guess…” Katara frowned down at her tea.

Suki watched her. “We’ll just run one of them over with our car when we leave. That’ll scare them!”

Katara actually smiled. It felt nice. 

\-------------

Some of the reporters followed her and Suki to work. Ergo, they knew where she was working now too. She knew that would be a story she’d read tomorrow morning. “Heartbroken Katara Returns to Work: Does Nothing of Relevance,” she imagined bitterly. Surging past the reporters and pretending like they weren’t there, she finally made it to the entrance. Thankfully, they couldn’t follow her into the building; security stopped them. 

She went downstairs, sat at her desk, and found a pile of papers waiting for her to read through. She sighed heavily, and began to work through them, as she had done in the weeks prior, and would continue to do for weeks coming. 

Wake up. Clock-in. Work. Clock-out. Avoid reporters. Eat. Sleep. She wasn’t Katara anymore. Just an automated version of her old self. She knew how to get her daily tasks done and then go to bed, only to restart the process once more in the morning. 

This was her life now.  _ Oh well _ , she figured,  _ I deserve this.  _

\-----------

Cheng came to visit Katara one day. She looked over from her computer to find someone standing right next to her. He waved. “Hey, I didn’t want to interrupt. Is now a good time?”

Katara rubbed her eyes, “No, yeah! Is everything alright?” 

“Of course, yeah. You’ve been doing some good work. I just wanted to see if you wanted to go get lunch? We can chat.”

“I’d really like that. Thanks.”

They did just that. They ignored the reporters who followed them the entire walk from EKPR to the ramen house a couple of blocks down. In the back of her mind, Katara worried what they would think. She prayed they wouldn’t publish something conspiratorial about how Katara was going out with other men. She cringed to think about it getting back to Zuko. Obviously this was nothing but platonic. She hoped the slimy paparazzi would feel the same. 

They sat down at their table and Cheng ordered his salad. He went on to explain how he was trying to be pescatarian. Or maybe it was paleo? She didn’t know. It seemed like he didn’t either. She ended up asking for the same thing he ordered and they waited for their food to arrive. 

“So! How have things been? Is it nice being back home?”

Not really. “Yeah, it’s been alright,” she responded, “It’s nice seeing family again. I felt like everytime I came back from the Fire Nation, my nephews had grown two inches. I’m not missing anything this way.” 

“That’s good. That’s really good,” he paused for a beat, “How about your new position? I know it isn’t the job you were expecting when you came back.” 

“It's not… awful…” she tried to come off as believable. Cheng didn’t buy it. 

“You don’t have to lie, you know. I know that it's not the same down there.” 

“Well thanks. It hasn’t been easy,” She chuckled nervously, “How about you? How are things up on top?”

“Stressful,” he rubbed his forehead, “EKPR’s budget is pretty tight right now.”

“Right… I’m sorry about that. I didn’t really think about the hit you would take when I ended _The_ _Burning Questions._”

“Well,  _ The Burning Questions  _ didn’t end, actually…”

She stopped. 

“We couldn’t just let it die. It was making half of the company’s profits. We had to send a replacement.”

“I didn’t realize…”

“Of course, I assumed you knew…”

She looked down at the table angrily. Tears threatened to spill. She didn’t really know why the news made her so upset. It felt like her world had turned so completely upside down, and everyone else’s world just kept on going without her. She couldn’t just move on. She’d been trying for weeks and it felt like it was killing her. Something had to give. 

“I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” 

“Oh, okay. Uh, we can get lunch somewhere else?”

  
“No, I can’t do  _ this  _ anymore. I quit.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is sad :(

Zuko got carried away, he realized. It was foolish of him, he knew that now, but in his defense, his life had changed so rapidly and so dramatically that he hardly had time to notice. He made the mistake of thinking he could be normal. Katara made him feel like he could be anyone, while everyone else constantly reminded him that he would always be a recluse with a facial deformity. His life with Katara had been energizing and refreshing. She made him feel like happiness was within his reach. She made him feel like he was in control of his own future.

He was angry, but not at her. That was worse, he thought. If he were angry with her, at least his anger would have some kind of direction, some kind of purpose. But it didn’t. It was just an aimless, amorphous darkness that wouldn’t leave him alone. He couldn’t use it for anything. It used him.

That being said, he didn’t really understand why she left. She’d said something about journalistic integrity and conflict of interest. He couldn’t help but wonder if those were just excuses. He had thought she seemed happy, but then again, he was never good at reading people. Maybe he had suffocated her with his poisonous loneliness. Maybe he was a really bad kisser.

He’d call it a break-up but it wasn’t even that. It never got that far. Zuko’s life was a series of aborted ideas and endeavors that never got the chance to become anything. He’d add this not-break-up to the list, just below his and Katara’s not-relationship.

The world was still so new to him, it just didn’t seem fair. But even he knew enough about the world to know that nothing was fair. He wondered where people even picked up the notion of equity if no one had ever really seen it. Nobody seemed to have a hard time differentiating other fairy tales from real life. Nobody ran around chasing unicorns and mermaids, but plenty of people lived and died in pursuit of equity. Zuko vowed not to be one of them.

His short-lived romance with Katara hadn’t been for nothing, then. In a twisted way, it was exactly what he needed. He had been so busy having fun that he’d forgotten himself. It was his lot in life to do the grueling work that no one else wanted, and he was the type to keep his head down and do it. Let other people waste their time chasing fantasies. Other people didn’t have a country to run. Zuko’s single brush with fantasy had thrown him wildly off-kilter. He needed something more tangible to hang onto.

Besides, it was time he stopped neglecting his family. It was so easy to ignore his uncle and Mai when he had Katara’s sympathetic advice to rely on. Without her, all of his critics were starting to make a lot more sense. He was letting his own sister rot behind bars for crying out loud, and all because he was too consumed with his glamorous new lifestyle to care. What kind of person even does that? Not a good one, that’s for sure.

He was spiraling. This was only about Katara. Right?

He decided to call Azula’s lawyer. It felt empowering to make a decision about something. Anything. Then it occurred to him that he didn’t even know her name. Surname Tan, maybe? Or Tuan. Tang? Ah ha. A quick google search revealed it to be Ruomei Tan.

He gave her a call and tried not to be too dismayed when it went to voicemail. His mood improved marginally when he recalled that it was a bit past three in the morning in the Earth Kingdom. He did  _ not _ wonder what Katara was doing right now. She was probably sleeping, like any reasonable person would be at three in the morning. Not that he was thinking about it. Because he wasn’t.

Ms. Tan returned his call when daylight broke in the Earth Kingdom, and Zuko answered, even though it was dark and late in the Fire Nation. He knew checking his phone every fifteen minutes wasn’t at all more productive than sleeping, but at least he hadn’t missed Ruomei Tan’s call. To his surprise, not only did she agree to speak with him, but proclaimed that she’d like to do so in person. She caught the red-eye that very evening.

They shook hands. Her grip was unwaveringly firm.

“Ruomei Tan. It’s a pleasure,” she announced, folding her graceful legs in the chair opposite him. She was brisk and professional.

“Likewise. Ms. Tan, could you please give me an update on Azula’s case?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, eyebrows slanting skyward. “You want to talk about Azula?”

Zuko hesitated. Um. Duh? Why else would he have called her here? Why else would she have accepted that offer?

“Well, yes… she’s my sister and you’re her attorney…”

“Oh, I see!” She laughed a plastic, garish laugh. “I just wasn’t sure, since, you know, you’ve literally never taken an interest in her until now.”

Zuko frowned.

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, isn’t it though, Fire Lord?” Her voice was deceptively sugary. How did people always manage to utter his title like it was an insult? “I’ve been working on her case nearly every day. I’ve been meeting with her weekly, sometimes more. You’ve visited her a grand total of zero times, if I’m not mistaken, and the one time you had an opportunity to have her transferred to a Fire Nation facility, you turned it down!”

Zuko was openly scowling now.

“You really traveled all this way just to tell me to go fuck myself?”

She smiled sweetly at him.

“I get frequent flyer miles.”

\------

Not too long after Katara resigned, Cheng Young advised him that  _ The Burning Questions _ was to continue with a different host. Hong. Since then Zuko mused about that new host.  _ Would it be better or worse if he’s entirely unlike Katara? _ Zuko wondered.

Worse, it turned out. Much worse.

“Fire Lord Zuko, we meet at last!” Hong cried and gave Zuko an overly familiar slap on the back.

“Please refrain from touching me,” Zuko chided, gently, and pried the man’s sweaty hand off his shoulder.

“Right, right, sorry. So I’m just gonna come right out and say it: I’m not Katara.”

Astute, this one was.

“No. You’re not.”

“But I still believe we’re going to get along just fine, you and me,” he prodded, making a weird gesture that involved pointing alternately between Zuko and himself.

“That’s nice.”

Hong paused. He was staring, Zuko could feel it, but he refused to meet his eye. He made Zuko want to wash his hands.

“Alright,” he relented, shuffling his notes and flicking on the recorder, “Let’s get started then. So if you had to speculate, why would you say that Katara quit?”

In spite of all his efforts at self-control, Zuko’s fist collided with the table.

“Damn it, could we not start with that?” He implored, and then added, “please?”

“Testy,” Hong observed, “Alright, we’ll begin with something easier. How’s your sister’s trial going?”

Zuko roared. Not with words, but an actual, guttural, animalistic roar. He clamped his hands on either side of his head.

Hong positioned himself as far away from Zuko as he possibly could without actually getting up from his seat. His face had drained of color.

“…Sorry,” Zuko begrudged.

Hong issued a nervous chuckle. “That’s alright… I guess the trial is off-limits too, then? What do you actually want to talk about?”

Zuko flicked a shred of used eraser from the table.

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

“Well we have to talk about something,” Hong shot back. Did they really? Truly, this one was a gem in the field of journalism.

They landed on his support of the Southern Water Tribe independence movement. Zuko tried his best to divorce the topic from his memories of Katara. Chief Hakoda could have been anyone’s father, Zuko insisted to himself. As far as he was concerned, Hakoda was just a fellow world leader with whom he’d made an agreement. It was just politics. Yes, that was it.

Their conversational rhythm (or lack thereof. Honestly, it was like pulling teeth) put Hong once again at ease. He resumed his one-sided banter, and even felt comfortable enough to toss one final tacky joke at Zuko before they parted.

“You’re not going to try and kiss me, are you? I know you have a thing for journalists.”

_ For fuck’s sake. _

Zuko left the room. He didn’t say goodbye, he didn’t announce that he was leaving, he just left. He didn’t even care that it was his office. He avoided it for several hours, even though Hong was probably long gone by then. It felt tainted, like his privacy was compromised in it.

Was it just too late for him? Had he put off handling his responsibilities for too long, and now no matter how hard he tried, everything would just blow up in his face? Maybe he made a better puppet ruler than a real one. He didn’t exactly like being the fire lord, so why had he been so resentful when Kuei took care of everything for him? It’s not like he had a vision for his nation. He didn’t even have a vision for himself.

He felt the way he had when his father was assassinated. It was like floating, but not in a pleasant, dreamlike way. It was more like he wasn’t properly in touch with anything or anyone, and so he had nothing with which to orient himself in reality. Someone might yank him down to solid ground if he was momentarily needed, but then he would be released into empty space again when it was over. Time stopped being linear when he felt this way. He felt the weight of not only his current uselessness, but also of all the years he’d be useless in the future, all bearing down on him at once. He thought he’d come a long way in the past few months, but he had been sorely mistaken. He was right back where he started.

He knew he was overthinking. It was a nasty habit he’d acquired after he was disgraced. But he just couldn’t help it; there was so little else to occupy him, what was he supposed to do? He felt thirteen again, with his whole life ahead of him and nothing to fill it.

If his thirteen-year-old self had learned to cope with it, then he could too. He was still the person he was back then. He just had to focus on the now. If the rest of his life really was as endless and vacuous as he feared, then he had plenty of time to deal with it later.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara is sad :(

“Katara? Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh? I’m sorry, yeah?”

Suki sighed. “I was asking if you could watch the boys while I’m at work. The sitter cancelled on us.”

“Sure, no problem,” she said, sitting up from the couch, “Where are they?”

“I just told you. They’re taking a nap. I fed them breakfast. You just have to give them their lunch. It’s in the fridge,” she appraised Katara. Half of her hair had fallen out of her top knot. Her sweater was covered with grease stains from last night’s dinner. Or maybe it was from dinner the night before that? She couldn’t remember. Suki took all of this in and asked, “Are you sure you can handle this?”

“It’s not a problem. I got it.”

“Alright. Well Sokka and I both have a busy day ahead of us. If you could also do the dishes while you’re here that would be great.” Suki picked up an apple from the table, put it in her work bag, and headed towards the door. “Okay, I’m out. Have a good day!”

“Bye…” Katara laid back down on the couch and closed her eyes again. She figured the boys would probably wake her up when they needed her.

She woke up a couple of hours later to Wei peaking his head over the edge of the couch and poking at her cheek. 

“Wei, what is it? Can’t you see I’m sleeping?” she asked him, opening one eye. 

“Hungry!! Can we have lunch?”

Katara forgot. “Shit, right. Yeah. Let's get you some food.” She stumbled up to her feet. Kaskae, Arluk, and Wei all followed her into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and looked at its contents blankly. “Right. What do you guys want to eat?”

“I don’t know!” Kaskae called. 

“Chicken nuggets!” Wei responded. 

“Mashed potatoes!” Arluk yelled. 

“Well we don’t have any of that. We have… frozen ribeye?” She looked at the boys questioningly. They looked up at her as incredulously as toddlers could. Right. “How about I order pizza?”

The triplets cheered. 

An hour later, lunch was served. The four of them polished off the entire thing in one sitting. 

Katara had it handled. Good for her! She fed the boys like she was supposed to. Proud of her work, she lifted the boys out of their high chairs and let them go play in their bedroom. As a reward, she went back to binging true crime documentaries. A couple of episodes later, Suki came home. The house was completely dark, except for the blue light from the TV screen. 

“Hello? I’m home!” Suki flicked on the lights and came into the living room. 

“Oh hey!” The bright lights blinded Katara. Suki looked down at her. 

“Have you just been sitting here all day?”

“Well no. I fed the triplets lunch. Like you asked!” Katara defended, pausing her movie

The triplets barreled in. They danced around Suki, while shouting “Mom, Katara let us have pizza for lunch!”

“What?” she looked down to Katara, “I told you their lunch was in the fridge!”

“No you didn’t…”

Suki sighed, “Did you at least do the dishes?”

Katara didn’t answer. Suki looked disappointed. Katara quickly responded, “I’m sorry! I can do them now?”

“It’s fine. It’s too late now. Just… go back to your show.”

Suki dropped her bag and stormed into the kitchen. She heard the water running. Katara kicked herself. Why couldn’t she do anything right? She got up to go into the kitchen and apologize. 

Before she entered, she heard Suki on the phone with Sokka. Katara stood around the corner, listening intently. She overheard something about how “you need to talk to her tonight” and how they “needed to get back to living their lives at some point.” The phone call ended. She heard Suki coming around the corner, and Katara quickly maneuvered back into her bedroom. 

\-------

They enjoyed a tense dinner that night. Suki was alarmingly quiet. She wouldn’t look at Katara. Sokka diplomatically carried on a polite conversation with her. He asked her how her day was and likewise, told her all about his. When they finished eating and the boys were excused, the tone of their conversation took a turn, just as she had expected. 

“So Katara... we were thinking about everything that has been going on and we wanted to see if there is anything we can do to help you get back on your feet again.” He folded his arms, “I know things haven’t been easy for you as of late, but I do think it’ll make you feel better if you had something to do during the day. Then you could get a space of your own. I think it would help you feel more like yourself.”

Dammit. She wished Sokka was angry with her. If he would just be honest with her and chastise her for being a piece of shit and a waste of space, then she would be able to get mad. Or feel spiteful. Feel _ something. _ Instead, Sokka was being gentle with her. He obviously had a stake in making her move out. Suki clearly orchestrated the whole thing. But there was an edge on genuineness that disarmed Katara. She should at least try to do what he wanted. For his sake. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been so disruptive,” she responded morosely.

“We’re just worried about you, ‘Tara. I hate seeing you like this.” He reached out and placed his hand atop hers. 

She felt guilty. “I guess I could try to get myself back out there again. I just have to update my résumé.” 

“Sure, yeah!” Sokka lit up, “That would be great. I think it would be good for you to get out of the house and get some work done. You could go to that one tea shop you always used to go to while we were at BSSU?”

Images of Zuko drinking jasmine boba tea flashed through her mind. “Yeah, maybe…”

“Great! And, of course, we’re all here for you if you need help with anything. I’m glad we had this chat.” Sokka looked proud of himself. She noticed Suki squeeze his hand. 

“Sure. Thanks, guys.”

She helped clear the table and made her way back to her room as soon as it was socially acceptable. The last thing she wanted was to come off as rude or dismissive of their conversation. 

Katara felt small. She hadn’t relied on her brother this heavily since they were kids. She never liked being told what to do. It wasn’t his fault though. Clearly, it was becoming increasingly difficult to pretend that everything was alright. How could she expect them not to notice? This whole thing felt stupid. It was just a break-up. Not even really a break-up. They weren’t dating! It simply reinforced themes in Katara’s life that she wasn’t prepared to face. For one, everytime she got close with someone, something had to go wrong. She didn’t understand why. Was she broken? She always saw it as a result of her exes never understanding her need for independence. They perceived her ambition as cold or unloving. When she was with people like that, it had always been easy to write off the relationship and their collective problems as a “them” problem. But Zuko had never been like that. For the first time, she didn’t feel like her need for an independent existence came off as a threat to her partner. He delighted in her success and empathized with her shortcomings. If Zuko wasn’t like her past exes, and if things still ended the same way they always had, then she was the only commonality. She had to be the problem. Why did she always demand so much? Couldn't she just let herself be happy? 

All she knew was that it was unbearably lonely being this way. What good did it really do her in the long run either? She came back here and lost her job anyway! In her fight to keep one of the things she loved, she lost both. 

It went far beyond Zuko too. The heartbreak picked at her. She missed him. Of course she missed him. But she also missed her job. It gave her purpose. She liked feeling productive and like she was making a difference. It kept her sharp. More than anything else though, she missed herself. Through her adolescence, she prided herself on her elasticity. Throw anything at her and she bounced back, no questions asked. She didn’t know who this new Katara was.The Katara who couldn’t be bothered to care if she was covered in filth and hadn’t showered in days. The Katara who threw in the towel and opened her arms wide to gnawing self hatred and defeat. Small things, like getting out of bed, became impossibly difficult. It was for this reason that Sokka’s request that she leave the house, brace the entire world, and expose herself and all of her vulnerabilities to rejection again felt so insurmountable. Her elasticity had run out. 

\-------

Sokka went with her to get her job applications out for the first time. Well, she could use the company, Katara supposed. 

After some excuse about how the tea shop by BSSU was closed, they went instead to the local public library. Sokka brought the boys along and sat them to play in the children’s book section. After they were settled, Sokka took her over to a secluded table and they got to work. He chatted with her pleasantly and had her pull her computer out. She hadn’t used it since she was in the Fire Nation, so it needed time to charge. 

Once it came on, Sokka worked her through a résumé workshop. She hadn’t done much to it since she started at EKPR and so it was quite lacking. While they were at it, he had her update her LinkedIn. It took several hours, and by the end of it, all of her professional materials got a nice facelift. The boys began to get antsy about wanting food and so they had to leave, but not before Sokka made her bookmark some job applications for later. 

As they were leaving, Sokka patted her back lovingly. “Look at you! You’re going up in the world!”

“Uh-huh,” she responded absently. 

“We got so much done!” Sokka continued, enthusiastically, “It’s only a matter of time before someone picks you up. You’ll see.”

She tried to smile encouragingly. He was excited for her success. She convinced him. She chastised herself. _ What a fraud _. 

\-------

She tried to follow through on her promises for Sokka. She had a good start too. The next day, she showered, and packed her bag with essentials for the day. She took the train out to the library. On her way out of the house she noticed that the reporters, who had made themselves at home on the front lawn, were gone. Thinking back, she didn’t recall them being there when she left with Sokka the day prior either.

It bugged her. She didn’t know why. She hated it when they were there. They stalked her. Their behavior bordered on harassment. They didn’t care about how it made her feel when they dug up old painful memories and yelled them at her. They just wanted to find a story. She didn’t have a story anymore. Now the reporters didn’t care. They had moved on. Seemingly everyone had moved past it except for her. She didn’t matter anymore.

She hadn’t given them much to work with, admittedly. She only left the house to retrieve her food from take-out delivery drivers. What kind of headline would that be? “Spurned Journalist Orders Fried Rice for the Sixth Time This Week.” A headline like that wouldn’t sell. She had to admit, she didn’t do much of relevance. 

That was the problem, wasn’t it? She lost her spark. She had her chance to do work––real work––and she blew it. Why would anyone care about what she was doing now? 

\------

She arrived at the library in a sour mood. Still, she found a private table and opened up her laptop. She opened up a browser and searched for one of those recruiting websites. She glazed over after reading through the third job post that was for some secretarial position. 

Music would make this more bearable, she figured. Pulling up her playlist, she skimmed through the home page. None of the “Recently Played” recommendations called to her. The ad at the top of the page switched. She recognized the logo. “_ The Burning Questions, _” it read, “Tap to listen.” Before she could think too much about it, she clicked on it. 

It took her to the episode library. She scrolled through the list and found what she was looking for. It was the last episode she ever made. She put in her headphones and clicked play. 

Katara’s own voice rang through her headphones. She was chattering on about how valiant and brave Zuko was like some sort of lovestruck schoolgirl. She cringed at her own delusion. How could anyone have taken her seriously? She realized that the popularity of the podcast wasn’t because of its political accuracy or historical relevance. It wouldn’t have become such a pop-culture phenomenon if that was the case. Its popularity came from people’s sick interest in watching the downfall of a journalist who was crossing lines and getting too attached to her subject. She was the last person to realize that she had based her career on making herself the butt of a longstanding joke. 

She listened to the podcast in a sad silence. It came to a close, and before she could hit pause, the next episode auto-played. Hong’s grating voice blared through her headphones, “WELCOME FOLKS to this episode of _ The. Burning. Questions_!” He changed the intro music to a much more upbeat, almost pop-like score. 

_ Ugh. No, thank you_. She went to turn off the episode. “My name is Hong, I’ll be your host, of course! Now, let me introduce you to the one and only Fire Lord Zuko!” 

“Er, hello,” came Zuko’s voice. She moved the cursor away from the pause button. 

Hong continued, “Now, I know all of you listeners want to know all of the delicious details of what went down at the Beifong party, and who am I to disappoint? Plus, the fire lord was more than willing to divulge. We’ll be releasing more details through the course of the next few episodes, but I would be remiss not to give you just a taste… I asked the fire lord what it was that he said to Katara immediately after his famous smooch and well, I’ll let him tell you himself! He told her to––” Hong’s voice was quickly replaced with Zuko’s.

“Please refrain from touching me.”

“OUCH! Now, I won’t give you more details now, my beautiful listeners, but stay tuned because I have more where that came from.” 

The podcast carried on. Katara wasn’t stupid. Zuko wouldn’t have said that. He _ didn’t. _ She would know. She knew that Hong wasn’t above partaking in botched journalism. He had no qualms with snipping bits and pieces of audio to spin a sellable story. It almost brought a smile to her face to think of the real context in which Zuko told him that. More than likely, he aimed his comment at Hong directly.

It was mostly offensive on the basis that EKPR considered Hong to be a suitable replacement to Katara. If she could be classified in the same group as _ him _, then why should she care so deeply about journalistic integrity? Hong rose to her level by lying and cheating his way to the top. Katara couldn’t have been much better. 

They didn’t bring Katara up again. Zuko talked at length about the Southern Water Tribe’s independence movement. When he spoke of her father, he did so in a removed, desensitized sort of way. That couldn’t be explained away by Hong’s flimsy sense of morality. It was just how he talked. 

She didn’t know what she expected, but she had hoped for him to sound more morose. Was that awful? She wanted him to be able to move on, surely. He didn’t do anything wrong. He deserved to be happy. Still, it stung to think that she was the only one hung up over this. She didn’t matter as much to him as he mattered to her. 

She hit play for Hong’s next episode, her job applications long forgotten. 

\------

The most inconvenient part of convincing Sokka that she was on the mend was that she had to act the part. And let’s be honest, the whole “fake it till you make it” bullshit mantra doesn’t work.

They wouldn’t let her stay home anymore. She was supposed to be out finding a job. Which meant that she had to go out in public. And going out in public meant she had to get dressed. She found a great compromise: leggings. Her go-to look had become a pair of black leggings and her old BSSU sweatshirt. She packed her laptop and headphones. She never used them, not for work anyway, but still, she brought them. They would sit heavy in the bottom of her backpack all day. She would leave the house and find creative things to do during these little field trips. 

Sometimes she took walks. She would put in her headphones and make her way through the middle ring of Ba Sing Se. It made the day go by quickly. She would blink and realize it was dark out, and then have to catch a light rail back to Sokka’s house to make it for dinner in time. Sometimes she’d go to the movies. Nothing really piqued her interest; it was mostly just an easy way to waste a couple of hours. 

Most of the time she would leave the house just long enough for Suki and Sokka to leave and then she would return once they were gone. She’d change back into her pajamas and lay around the house in peace. More than once, Sokka had come home and caught her fast asleep in her bed. Katara made some sort of excuse for why she wasn’t out. She wasn’t sure if Sokka bought it, but she at least had plausible deniability. 

She couldn’t really remember why she cared so much about what they thought, anyway. What was the harm in taking it easy? She deserved to cut herself a break. It took far too much energy pretending to be good at what she was doing to try anymore. Besides, she knew that they were too polite to kick her out. If she didn’t cause much of a fuss, she could continue doing this for the foreseeable future. At least she was imagining a future, right? It was the best hope for her.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko makes a plan

Hong really sucked at his job. After all, he was supposed to be interviewing Zuko, wasn’t he? Somehow it felt like it was the other way around. They were already twenty-five minutes into their weekly meeting, and he’d spent the majority of it prattling on about himself, or else some topic he probably thought was tangentially related. Zuko had stopped listening a while ago. He’d occasionally punctuate Hong’s monologue with a “yeah” or an “uh-huh,” but otherwise he kept his eyes trained on the wall clock just behind Hong’s head.

In addition to dealing with Hong’s all-around mediocrity, Zuko was just so tired. That part was his own fault, he had to admit. And the hangover. As much as he wished he could somehow pin those conditions on Hong, Zuko knew he had no one but himself to blame. No one had forced him to stay awake until five A.M. the previous night. No one, except perhaps, his own turbulent thoughts. But he might blame Hong anyway. It just felt better that way. Yeah, fuck Hong. 

“Yep,” Zuko monotoned at an interval where it seemed appropriate.

Hong chuckled his grating, nasally chuckle. He always sounded so superior for someone so unbelievably obtuse.

“Fire Lord, I asked you how implementing your new nationwide educational standard has been coming along. ‘Yep’ isn’t a valid answer.”

_ You’re not a valid answer, _ hissed Zuko’s internal voice. He supplied a passable response, and then shifted his gaze from the wall clock to a nearby lampshade. Literally anything in this room was more interesting than Hong.

Last night Zuko had fallen down a metaphorical rabaroo hole. His first misstep had been breaking into his prized Suntory whisky collection. The bottles were just so handsome, with their stately labels and their various shades of translucent amber, and Zuko’s head was just such an awful place to be… But that was only the first, and arguably less egregious, of his mistakes.

He missed her. He missed her so much. Most of the time he was sober enough to lie to himself about it, but last night he’d removed his mental guardrails. She was just a colleague, he’d tried to persuade himself. He only missed her in a professional capacity, he’d insisted. He only felt her absence so strongly because her replacement turned out to be an actual human dumpster fire. That last point, while objectively true, willfully ignored the heart of the matter.

But last night he’d been honest enough with himself that those arguments didn’t work anymore. He saw them for the flimsy paper cut-outs they were. He missed Katara because he liked her. He liked her, she was witty and had been one of the first people in his life to extend to him a modicum of empathy, and he’d kissed her at Toph’s party. Toph’s stupid, crazy party that caused everything to fall apart. What if they’d only talked by the pool that night? Would she still be here? Would she be sitting across from him right now, asking him fascinating questions instead of Hong sitting here asking his irrelevant, invasive ones?

Zuko wasn’t proud to admit that he’d googled her. What kind of stalker weirdo does that? He did, apparently. He was the stalker weirdo, but last night he’d been too drunk to care. It started by clicking on her staff profile at EKPR. Zuko had really only wanted to see her again, he knew he wouldn’t learn anything he didn’t already know.

“How do you respond to critics who say that modernizing the Fire Nation’s economy according to your plan is unrealistic in the timeframe?”

“Uh, I don’t, really.”

Her staff profile picture must’ve been a few years old, probably from when she was first hired. Her hair was longer and her face looked younger. There was a little blurb about her underneath the photo. That she was born in the Southern Water Tribe, that she’d earned her bachelor’s at the University of Ba Sing Se, that she was best known for her work on  _ International Hour _ …

“What are your thoughts on transitioning the Fire Nation’s government to a democracy?”

“I don’t have any.”

He’d followed links from EKPR’s website to her various social media profiles. First he found her official account in which she represented herself as a journalist. She never posted anything deeply personal on that one, only announcements and other information related to her job. Every now and then she added a selfie with her coworkers (Zuko recognized Cheng in one of them), but that was the most intimate it got. There was nothing about Sokka or her father.

“Do you have a strong sense of being your father’s successor? Do you ever draw on his leadership style?”

“I am not my father.”

A bit of amateur sleuthing led him to Katara’s personal account. The profile picture  _ was  _ her, but in a floppy wide brimmed hat and dark tinted sunglasses, you’d have to have seen her in person to recognize her. She was smiling. Zuko thought he could make out an overexposed beach in the background. She must’ve been on vacation somewhere, maybe Kyoshi Island. Katara had once told him that her sister-in-law was from there. She looked like she was having fun. It was time stamped over a year ago. He wondered if she was smiling right now, wherever she was.

“What kind of legacy do you hope to leave behind?”

“I don’t know.”

She reposted a lot of articles from political science journals. That was hardly surprising. Katara was always overflowing with her analyses of current events, and would share them with anyone who cared. She posted about other things too. There was a small photo album of a housewarming party she threw for Sokka and his wife, whose name was Suki, according to the tags. Suki was heavily pregnant in the pictures. Zuko remembered Katara talking about her triplet nephews, so the photos must’ve been old. She had brought them a platter of homemade daifukumochi. Zuko never knew that she liked cooking. Or maybe she hated it, but she just loved her brother and his family that much.

“How do you plan to enforce the tightened opium restrictions? Will the punishments for possession become more severe going forward?”

“Sure, probably.”

Somehow he wound up on a website that appeared to be a social network for business professions, which, in Zuko’s opinion, entirely defeated the procrastinatory appeal of social networks. Whatever. Katara had an account, which meant his pathetic pursuit of her digital footprint led him there. It mostly rehashed information he’d already read on her EKPR staff profile, and most of that he knew already from talking to her. Her education, her prior jobs, her professional skills… It must’ve been updated more recently than the EKPR website, because it listed information that EKPR didn’t. For example, she had a PhD in political science. He knew she had a higher degree, but he’d always assumed it was in journalism. Her photo was more recent, too. EKPR probably hadn’t updated its information since Katara was hired. A lot had happened since then.

“Have you put any thought into who will replace Minister Hansuke as minister of international relations?”

“Not particularly.”

“Really? I’d have thought that would be a pressing concern of yours at this point.”

Ugh. This guy.

“Well. It’s not.”

Hong shot him a smug, knowing look. It made Zuko’s blood boil. What did he think he knew, anyway?

“Alright, but you’ll have to replace Minister Hansuke eventually. You’ll need someone well versed in international politics, with a good classical education to serve as a foundation.”

Was this dude seriously telling Zuko how to do his job? He knew the job qualifications. It was his council. Not Hong’s.

Hong chattered on.

“Someone with an established network in the right circles. You don’t want to be introducing your minister of international relations at cocktail parties. It’s their job to know people. If anything, they ought to be introducing you.”

“I don’t need an introduction.”

“Right, of course not. Everyone knows who you are, given the circumstances of your coronation. Plus, you’ve got a rather memorable face.”

Zuko was  _ this _ close to storming out again. If Hong took any notice, he didn’t show it.

“You’ll want someone smart, obviously.”

_ So not you?  _ Zuko thought.

“Someone you can trust to give reliable advice. Someone who knows your leadership style inside and out. Heck, someone who knows you inside and out. Someone who practically knows what you’re going to do before you do it.” 

Some big help this was. Zuko didn’t have anyone who knew him that well, and certainly no one he could trust so closely. No one except…

“What did you just say?” Zuko interrupted Hong’s rambling.

“Um, which part? I said a lot.”

“You know what? Never mind,” Zuko waved him off and began to collect a few of his belongings.

“What? Where are you going?” Hong demanded.

Zuko grabbed his jacket. “Nowhere. Shut up.”

“Wait! Fire Lord! We’re still on the record!” Hong yelled after him as Zuko slipped through the doorway.

For once in his life, Hong had actually provided some valuable insight, and he didn’t even know it. Zuko knew exactly what he needed to do.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko consults his unofficial therapist.

He'd been hoping to close up early. The shop had been nearly empty for hours, save for a single college student situated in a plush armchair in the corner, who, with headphones in his ears and his face illuminated by the glow of his laptop, seemed completely unaware of Iroh’s aspirations for an early closing. Oh well. He was a low-maintenance customer, at least. Iroh took advantage of the lull to sweep the back room.

The doorbell (an actual, physical bell, positioned to ring whenever the door was pushed ajar) jingled, and Iroh’s customer service reflex kicked in.

“Have a seat wherever you like, I’ll be right with you!” He called through the linen curtain that separated the disaster that was his kitchen from the cozy ambiance of the tea room.

He didn’t get a reply, so the customer must’ve been surveying the shop. Iroh swapped out his stained apron for a cleaner one, replaced the broom in the cupboard where it belonged, brushed the wrinkles from his clothes, and went out to meet the new arrival. He grabbed a laminated menu from the stack by the cash register on his way.

_ Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. My name is Mushi, I’ll be your server.  _ Iroh rehearsed his typical speech in his head. The Jasmine Dragon had other employees, of course, mostly teenagers and college students looking to make some extra cash, but today was slow enough that Iroh decided he could run the shop alone. He worked as a tea server often enough that he had a speech prepared, but not often enough that he didn’t have to rehearse it a little.

Except he never gave it.

He never gave it because the fidgety, overdressed man in a wicker chair near the window wasn’t a customer. It was his nephew.

“Uncle,” said Zuko, meeting his gaze. He didn’t look well. He looked older, and not in a good way. He looked like the last time he got more than a few hours of sleep was probably on the flight here.

“What are you doing here?” Iroh ventured. The irony wasn’t lost on him. This meeting was something of an inverse of their previous one.

Zuko hesitated, scowling at the tabletop. As the silence stretched on, it occurred to Iroh that Zuko didn’t really know what he was doing here.

“This was a stupid idea,” Zuko muttered, rising suddenly from the table. He made for the door, and Iroh didn’t stop him, but of his own accord he paused.

“You left me,” he accused, whirling around. “You left me. Mom left me. Father left me, even though that was your fault and not his. Everyone leaves me.”

“Zuko…” Iroh began. From the corner of his eye he spied the college student, who, perhaps sensing he was intruding on a family matter, was now packing his bags. At least he probably didn’t speak Fire Tongue. “You know why I left you. I did it for your own safety. And now that you know I am alive, we don’t have to be separated anymore. You can always come visit me—”

“Well maybe you’re not welcome back in my life after what you did, did that ever occur to you?” Zuko seethed.

Yes, it had occurred to him. He thought about it quite a lot, actually, but he didn’t particularly want to admit that to Zuko at this moment.

“Why does everyone leave me?” Zuko lamented when Iroh didn’t answer. His tone had changed. His anger had simmered away, leaving behind only the despair and loneliness that Zuko had been carrying around with him for over a decade.

He slumped back into the chair.

“Is there something wrong with me…?”

Of course. The journalist woman. He’d come here for her, and Iroh had been only an afterthought. He’d been abandoned again and at this point he was having trouble not viewing all the incidents as one, single, lifelong abandonment. How could he  _ not  _ start to feel like everyone he cared about was conspiring against him?

“There is nothing wrong with you, my nephew,” Iroh said gently.

“Then why doesn’t anyone ever stay?” Zuko pleaded.

“Zuko listen to me. The life you have led has been a highly unusual one. For most of it, you have not had any control over whether the people in your life enter or leave it.”

Zuko listened, his face still contorted with hatred, as if he wished he weren’t listening. But he was desperate, and so even through his quiet rage, he listened.

Iroh carried on, “But that is not your life anymore. I know you resent the role you have been forced into, but at least in this way, it is a gift. You can control your own destiny now. You no longer need to wait for events to happen to you.”

“So, what? I should just use my powers as fire lord to force people back into my life?” Zuko was incredulous.

“Not at all. Becoming fire lord happens to be the way in which you were liberated from your disgrace, but it is your not political power I am referring to. You are a powerful leader, yes, but moreover, you now have the opportunity to live like an ordinary person. You can have relationships like ordinary people do, not colored by who you used to be, and just like anyone else, you can go to her.”

“Her?” Zuko demanded. He was, apparently, fully prepared to feign ignorance on this matter.

“Her. She’s the reason you travelled to Ba Sing Se, isn’t it? I have been led to believe she was more to you than just a podcast host.”

Zuko opened and then closed his mouth again. A rouge crept across his face, so that the un-burnt half was much more similar in hue to its scarred counterpart than usual.

“This was never about me, was it?” Iroh persisted. “You are angry with me, I know, and you have good reason to be. But this particular occasion is about someone else.”

When Zuko’s embarrassment dissipated, he gazed out the window, wrapped up in whatever he was thinking.

“I want to go to her, it’s just… You’re right. I do have more power than ever. I can try and win her back. But what if it doesn’t work? If that happens, then I won’t be able to blame it on my chronic misfortune. It won’t be my royal title, or my bad luck, it’ll just be… me. It’ll be  _ my  _ failure.”

“You’re afraid to even try because you don’t want to fail.”

“Well, yeah.”

“And that’s the beauty about having choices, isn’t it? You get to try. You may fail, and you may not. But so long as you try, you have a chance.” 

“I’ve never been allowed to try before,” Zuko faltered. 

“It’s never too late to start.” Iroh placed a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko didn’t recoil or shake him off. “Nephew. Go to her.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheng is back! Sokka orders a pizza.

Cheng padded his way into the kitchen, humming to himself. _ Ah, what a beautiful morning, _ he thought. Tossing some assorted berries into a blender, he wondered, _ what was the breakfast mood? _ Tutting to himself, he bent down to look through the fridge. Inspiration struck. He picked an avocado out of his fridge, removed the seed, and plopped it on top of the berries. He added ice and honey but still something was missing. Opening up the fridge once more, he scanned the contents: oat milk, soy milk, coconut milk, almond milk. _ Decisions, decisions. _ Almond milk sounded as good as anything. He poured a splash over the top of his concoction, pushed on the lid, and hit blend. 

Pleased with his work, he made his way into the bedroom and hopped onto his exercise bike for an early-morning workout. Today was National Bike to Work Day. He wouldn’t be partaking since EKPR studios was out of his range, but not one to miss out on the fun, he decided this was the next best way to celebrate.

After a quick shower and outfit change, he drove into work. Not even the traffic could get him down today. He was feeling good. It was one of Cheng’s more productive mornings. He usually only had time to make a smoothie or workout. Never both. He reached down to his cup holder to take a sip of the aforementioned breakfast beverage and grasped at nothing. He left his tumbler at home. Well, he figured, it gave him an excuse to stop by his favorite coffee shop. Luckily, it was only a couple blocks up the road. 

“What will be the name for that?” The barista asked him after placing his usual order. A grande, bone dry, four-shot ristretto, two-raw-sugars cappuccino. He told her his name and leaned against the counter to make some small talk while she worked. 

“So, you know, I’m on a juice cleanse right now,” he told her proudly. 

The barista paused in the middle of writing his name on the cup. “Are you now?” 

“Yeah. I don’t know what all the fuss is about. It isn’t that hard.”

She paused to look at him and then dropped her gaze down to the cup in her hands. “Uh-huh,” she said. She finished writing on the cup and turned away from him to finish his order. 

He browsed through the case of pastries on display. The seasonal pumpkin spice donut holes called to him. He eyed them cautiously. No. He had to leave them behind. He grabbed his drink and spared one final look at the donuts before leaving. They probably weren't keto anyway.

Work went by smoothly enough. He listened to the drafts of a couple of episodes. After each one, he wrote a short reflection to send back with feedback. Most required just a few tweaks here and there. Nothing major. He predicted that the draft for the new _ The Burning Questions _ episode was enough of a dumpster fire that it wasn’t even worth a listen. There’s no fixing stupid. He signed off on payroll for the month and forwarded the budget to the board for approval. Being that it was only noon and he had effectively progressed through the agenda for the whole day, he had time to run some errands that he had been putting off for quite some time. They had some updated promotional products for _ The Burning Questions _ with Hong that he needed to pick up from their partnering printing company.

He arrived at the print shop to find that there was a small hiccup with the posters. Apparently they put the dimensions in wrong and they were comically larger than expected. Someone also ordered cardboard cut-outs of the fire lord. He was a world leader, not a professional athlete. He didn’t know who would want a lifesize replica of the strange man. No matter, he had a job to complete. It was no small feat shoving the posters and cardboard cut-outs through the hatchback trunk door of his prius. He slammed the trunk door shut with a satisfying thud when he was finished. As he drove out of the parking lot, he glanced at the rearview mirror of his prius to see Hong’s stupid, smiling face staring back at him. Chuckling goodnaturedly, he headed towards his next errand. 

The screen on his dashboard lit up with a call notification from his desk assistant. Cheng picked up. His assistant sounded panicked. He demanded that Cheng get back to the office as soon as possible. He and his desk assistant got along quite well, but the assistant was typically respectful and certainly not the type to make demands. He couldn’t help but be annoyed by having to stop what he is doing and turn around. Sometimes it felt like a majority of his job was babysitting his coworkers. He supposed it was his own fault for thinking they could manage themselves while he was out. His coworkers were determined to mess with his groove, weren’t they?

“Well what’s going on? I should at least know what the big rush is for.” He asked through the car speaker system.

The assistant paused for a long moment before responding with a stutter. “You-you won’t believe me if I tell you. Just get back here as soon as possible.” Cheng heard the beep signifying that the call had been disconnected. 

Once he was back in the office, Cheng found his assistant, whose eyes widened when he saw him. He directed his thumb towards the side of the room to guide Cheng’s line of vision. He looked towards what he was pointing at to find Fire Lord Zuko sitting in one of their plush decorative chairs, arms folded delicately across his lap. 

The fire lord stood and offered Cheng his hand. “Hello. I’m Zuko,” he said. 

Cheng shook his hand, in shock. Without breaking eye contact with the fire lord, he addressed his assistant. “Clear out my schedule for the rest of the evening.”

\-----

Cheng invited Fire Lord Zuko into his office. After offering him something to drink, and, after making him a cup of jasmine tea, they sat down to talk. Cheng knew exactly what was coming. 

The fire lord took a deep breath and asked, “Is Katara here?”

_ Called it. _

C’mon. There was no way that Zuko came all this way for Hong. It was like something out of a movie, the more he thought about their relationship. A Hallmark original story of a far-off leader chasing his dream girl across the globe to proclaim his love for her. It would have been that, at least, if Katara still worked here. 

“I hate to disappoint you but she doesn’t work here anymore. She quit a month or two ago.”

“Ahh.” His face fell. “Do you know where is it that she is working now?” He responded, hopefully. 

Cheng didn’t know how to tell Fire Lord Zuko that, as far as he knew, Katara was still unemployed. Instead he responded, “I am not entirely sure, if I’m being honest. Sorry about that...”

“Do you know where I might find her? I am trying to contact her.”

“She might be staying with her brother? I can give you the address.” He pulled out a piece of paper.

“I don’t have a car. Or a license.” Zuko admitted, quietly. Cheng could tell that Fire Lord Zuko was starting to panic. His grand plan was unravelling right in front of him. He seemed to be second guessing his decision to come out here. 

“Right, okay. Don’t worry about it, man. We can make a plan,” Cheng counselled him. He supposed he didn’t have anything else to do for the rest of the day. It was getting late anyway. Plus, he had to admit that he had always been a fan of Katara’s relationship with the fire lord, even if he was a little strange. “Do you need a ride? I can take you.”

Zuko lit up. “You do not mind?”

“Nah, not at all. Come on, lets go.” Cheng got up. “We have lids that you can put on that tea”

They loaded into the car together. Fire Lord Zuko looked mildly appalled when he saw the front seat of Cheng’s car was littered with posters of his own face. Cheng chuckled and helped move them into the backseat, to lay in a pile in between the two cardboard cut-outs. It tickled Cheng to think about the perspective of anyone who looked into their car at that moment. Sitting up in the backseat were cardboard versions of the same guy that was sitting right next to him. Of course _ today _was the day that Fire Lord Zuko made a surprise appearance in his car. 

Other than Cheng’s short lived amusement, the ride to Katara’s was pretty awkward. Cheng shifted his gaze from the road to Fire Lord Zuko momentarily. His leg was shaking as he watched the cars pass by. He pitied the poor guy. It takes a lot of courage to ask a girl out, particularly if said girl is Katara. Cheng wanted to know what exactly his plan of action was. “Soooo what do you want to talk to Katara about?” he started. 

Fire Lord Zuko paused. “I want to make her a part of my council.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly the confession of love that Cheng was expecting. 

“Yeah? She’s a hard worker. I totally recommend her.”

Zuko nodded to himself. He felt the unsaid feelings hanging in the air between them.

Cheng cautiously prodded him further, “She’s quite hung-up on you, ya know. I’ve never seen her like this before. Not for anyone.”

“Hung-up?” Zuko’s eyebrow furrowed. Cheng supposed that “hung-up” doesn’t sound like a positive phrase to someone unfamiliar to the Earth Kingdom dialect. 

“Sorry, uh, it means that she has a lot of respect for you. That she likes you.”

Fire Lord Zuko paused to think for some time, looking straight forward at the road ahead of them, before admitting impassively, “I think I love her.”

His tone was so matter-of-fact that if it had come out of anyone’s mouth other than his, Cheng would have assumed they were kidding. Instead he came off as disarmingly sweet. In an awkward kind of sense, absolutely. Still, Cheng couldn’t help but be charmed. 

They pulled up to the house. Zuko looked like he might be sick. Regardless, he gathered himself and opened the car door. Cheng rooted for him. Through the rolled down window of his car, he called, “Good luck, buddy!”

Cheng watched Zuko walk up the pathway and ring the doorbell. It wasn’t far enough away that he couldn’t hear the voice of, who he presumed to be Katara’s brother, yell “pizza’s here!” before opening the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I drew more stuff! 
> 
> The Dictator https://www.deviantart.com/keysmashjones/art/The-Dictator-841769410
> 
> And the Journalist https://www.deviantart.com/keysmashjones/art/The-Journalist-841769738


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka’s pizza is late

_ What the heck is pizza?  _ Zuko wondered. It didn’t really matter what it was, since he was pretty confident he wasn’t it.

“Ah, no. I’m not pizza. Is Katara here…?” He tried to peer around the man blockading the door—Katara’s brother, Zuko realized—as much as he could without being rude.

Sokka blinked cluelessly at him. He did not move from the doorway.

“You’re Zuko,” he said finally.

“You’re Sokka.”

A meaningful silence stretched on for several beats before Sokka pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, to himself more than anyone else, and then made a visible effort to perk up before addressing Zuko again. “Um. Yeah, wow. Would you like to come in?” He stepped aside to allow Zuko to cross the threshold.

Zuko did, hands folded behind his back and nodding politely at Sokka as he passed. Across the street, Cheng drove off once he saw that Zuko had been safely admitted. Sokka shut the door behind him.

“Katara!” Sokka hollered down the hall and into a room hidden from view. “There’s someone here to see you!”

There was no sign of movement, but Katara’s familiar voice carried into the foyer in response. “Sokka, I really don’t feel like entertaining visitors right now! Can you tell them to leave?”

“I really think you should come down here!” Sokka and Zuko locked eyes. Sokka smiled, just a little. Zuko gulped.

“I’m in sweatpants! My hair is dirty!”

“He’s not going to care!” Sokka shouted back, almost sing-songy.

“He?” Katara inquired, appearing at the top of the stairs. True to her word, she sported a pair of dark blue sweatpants and a slightly greasy topknot. True to Sokka’s word, Zuko didn’t care in the slightest. He was elated to see her again.

Katara descended slowly and uncertainly at first, then spotted Zuko, and then hurried down the stairs to meet him.

“Zuko!”

Probably before she could think better of it, she ran to his arms. When she pulled away, there was an awkwardness that hadn’t been there before. Zuko guessed that the details of their short-lived and deeply fraught time together were returning to her, just like they were for him.

“What are you doing here…?” She marveled, punctuating her query with incredulous laughter.

“I had an epiphany! I must share it with you,” Zuko explained.

She laughed again. “And you couldn’t have just called me?”

“No. I had to see you in reality.” In reality? In actuality? In person? Zuko was too nervous to properly recall common Earth Tongue expressions.

Several feet away, Sokka was watching their exchange bemusedly. The doorbell’s chime resounded through the house for the second time that day.

“This had better be the pizza,” remarked Sokka as he made for the door. “I’ll get it. You two go sit down.”

Katara led him to the sitting room, where he settled into a squashy leather recliner that felt like it was trying to swallow him. Katara situated herself on the adjacent sofa.

“Still not pizza!” Came Sokka’s exasperated cry from down the hall. He joined them in the sitting room, toting a small child in his arms, and was accompanied by whom Zuko recognized to be his wife Suki. Suki juggled the other two squirming children. 

“I’m sorry, I forgot my key!” Suki confessed, flush faced, when she made her entrance. Upon seeing her, Zuko was reminded of the photos from the housewarming party he saw on his deep dive into Katara’s online presence. He suddenly felt like a voyeur, certainly not someone with any legitimate business in this nice family’s suburban home. But nobody else knew about that, he supposed.

“Suki, meet Zuko,” said Sokka. He sounded business-like, almost bored, like he wasn’t hosting the dictator of a facist nation state in his living room. Suki gasped and tried to interject, but Sokka barged on, “Zuko, meet Suki, Kaskae, Arluk and Wei.”

He gestured toward each of the toddlers when he listed their names. Zuko prayed he wouldn’t be expected to remember that.

The doorbell rang a third time.

“If that’s not pizza, I’m going to scream!” Sokka handed the child off to Katara and scrambled out of the room.

“You’re—the fire lord, right? From Katara’s podcast?” Suki stammered by way of greeting. Zuko nodded. He noticed people had a tendency to talk about him like that, like he only existed within the confines of Katara’s podcast, and ceased to exist when they’d stopped listening. “I’d shake your hand, but…” Suki lightly bounced the children in her arms.

“That’s okay. It is very nice to meet you.”

“Pizza!” Sokka screeched, barreling into the room with a flat cardboard box. The scent of whatever was in it made Zuko’s mouth water.

“Zuko, would you like to stay for dinner?” Suki offered.

So he stayed for dinner. It was the most chaotic meal Zuko had ever attended. The family dinners he was accustomed to (back when he still had a family) were always a rigid, formal affair. He had been expected to look his very best. Once he’d forgotten to have his slacks ironed, and his father forbade him from eating with the family that night. He was sent back to his chambers without food, and only later scarfed down an apple and some cold tofu thanks to Preeda’s intervention.

Sokka and Suki’s household operated differently. They sat not in upright chairs at a neatly set table, but on the plush furniture of their living room. The toddlers were wrestled and then fastened into plastic highchairs. They dined not on porcelain plates with gold leaf detailing, but on mismatched dishware pulled haphazardly from the cabinets. Zuko’s plate had a chip on the rim. Katara drank from a lidless sippy cup when they ran out of “adult” glassware. They ate not gourmet food cooked by an army of private chefs, but pizza from a box. Pizza, as it turned out, was incredible.

One of the toddlers’ cups burst open unexpectedly. The boy giggled as the water dribbled across the plastic tray and onto the floor. Except, it wasn’t dripping normally, Zuko observed. It swirled, circuitous and unhurried, before it hit the ground.

“Wei’s a waterbender,” Katara informed him as Sokka made to clean up the spill. She stopped him, lazily flicking a wrist in his direction. It was like the spill had happened again, but backwards. The water rushed in reverse, trickling back up the chair and gathering in Wei’s cup. All Sokka had to do was screw the lid back on.

Zuko had seen Katara’s waterbending before, but it still captivated him every time. It was so much gentler and more artful than fire.

“So I see.”

“Dad says you were even worse when you were a kid,” Sokka jested.

“I probably was. I still am,” Katara answered primly, taking a dainty bite from the corner of her pizza slice.

Everyone laughed except for Zuko. It wasn’t that he didn’t think it was funny, just that he was still digesting the idea of being here.

“So, Zuko, you were saying that you had an epiphany?” Katara quizzed, once they had mostly polished off the pizza. 

Zuko hesitated. When he rehearsed this conversation in his head, he and Katara had been alone. He hadn’t predicted having to stand and deliver in front of an audience. Then again, Katara would have to tell her family eventually if she accepted his offer. It made just as much sense to say it in front of them. He just didn’t like the three pairs of eyes blinking at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat.

“Yes, I, uh…” He paused to order his thoughts. They came out disordered anyway. “You have a doctorate in political science!”

“I do…” Katara acknowledged carefully. So Zuko  _ had _ sounded as daft as he felt.

“Yes! And that’s significant because, well you see, I always thought it was in journalism.”

Katara frowned. Behind her, Sokka and Suki exchanged twin curious glances.

“Zuko, I appreciate that you’ve been thinking about me, but generally epiphanies contain some kind of insight that isn’t just an indisputable fact…”

“I want you to come back to the Fire Nation as my minister of international relations.”

When no one else spoke, Zuko found the willpower to continue.

“The position has been vacant ever since Minister Hansuke resigned, I know you know that already, and well, this way you don’t have a conflict of interest! There’s no journalistic integrity since you wouldn’t be a journalist anymore. You could come back to the Fire Nation, and we could work together, and we could… feel however we want to feel.”

Well, there it was. He couldn’t even think of anything else to ramble about, otherwise he would have. Anything to put off facing her reaction.

“Wow,” she said finally, fiddling with the remnants of pizza crust on her plate.

Suki subtly nudged her husband, and two of them wordlessly gathered their children and cleared the room.

“Cheng told me you’re not at EKPR anymore. Have you moved onto something else?”

“I’m kind of between things right now… wait, when did you talk to Cheng?”

“I went to EKPR trying to find you. He’s the one who drove me here.”

She tucked her knees into her chest and cradled her cup in her hands.

“This is big,” she stated simply.

“It could be.”

“I need some time to think about it.”

“I thought you might,” he admitted, but he hadn’t expected that she would take that time right here and right now. She stood up and strode out of the room without warning, leaving Zuko alone in what was effectively a stranger’s living room.

She headed to a different part of the house Zuko hadn’t yet seen, to wherever Sokka and Suki had gone to give their guests some privacy. He heard voices, low and muffled, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Even if he could hear them properly, it felt like a violation. Katara deserved to confide in her family without him. He was left by himself for what felt like a half hour, but was probably actually less than that. He occupied himself by looking at the wall hangings, inspecting a nearby bookshelf that contained just as many movies and video games as it did books, and overanalyzing the pattern on the carpet.

When Katara returned with Suki tailing behind her, Zuko made a point to speak before either of them had the chance.

“I can leave, if you would like. That way you can have more time to decide,” he announced. He desperately craved her answer, but it felt chivalrous somehow to give her the space she needed. He’d never really been in the position to accommodate someone else’s needs before.

Katara and Suki seemed amused by his overly formal manner. Katara shook her head.

“There’s no need. I’ll do it.”

“You will?” He’d anticipated more resistance. The arguments he’d planned in his mind crumbled to dust. He felt happy, sure, but also a good deal more anxious than he imagined he would. The vision he’d had ended here. He didn’t know what came next.

“Yes,” she confirmed, smiling now.

“Congratulations, Madam Minister,” Suki smirked. Sokka joined her seconds later.

“You’re doing it then?” He questioned, his attention on Katara. He said it very neutrally; Zuko couldn’t tell if that had been calculated or not.

“I am. It’s… well it’s the offer of a lifetime, really. Years of mingling with politicians and I still never imagined I’d actually be one,” said Katara, a hint of awe in her voice. She turned back to Zuko.

“I missed you,” he said, quietly. The others were still in earshot, he knew, and he didn’t mind, but the statement was only intended for Katara.

“I missed you too.” She was starting to drop the brisk manner she sometimes adopted when she was under pressure. Now that the surprise had worn off, she was turning back into herself. He didn’t hold it against her. He got weird when he was stressed, too. Actually, he was weird all the time, he’d been told. Apparently Katara didn’t mind.

“Then you’d better pack your bags so you crazy kids can make your flight back to the Fire Nation!” Sokka bellowed, draping an arm around Katara and Zuko, respectively, forcing them into a mandatory moment of shared tenderness.

“Actually,” Zuko corrected, squirming out from underneath Sokka’s grasp, “It’s a private jet. It leaves whenever I say it does.”

“Oh!” Sokka exclaimed with raised eyebrows, “Right. Royalty and all that jazz. That’s handy.”

Zuko shrugged. “It has its moments.”

Katara piped up, “Sokka’s right, though. We should make plans. What hotel are you staying in, Zuko?”

“I don’t actually know yet. I arrived only this morning.”

“You should stay with us!” Sokka declared. It didn’t sound like an empty gesture. In fact, it didn’t sound terribly optional.

“Ah,” Zuko scanned Katara and Suki’s faces for any cues he might follow, “Well if no one objects to this idea…”

Katara seemed to approve.

“You’ll have to sleep on the couch, probably, but we certainly don’t mind. But you should get a hotel if that’ll be more comfortable.”

Of course it would be more comfortable. But Zuko was trying to appear amiable in front of Katara’s family. If they were to become coworkers, and possibly… Well, if they were to become more significant parts of each other’s lives, then surely Zuko should do his best to  _ not _ come across like a spoiled brat.

“I’ll pack my things quickly. Hopefully you’ll only have to spend one night on that lumpy old thing,” Katara promised, tilting her head in the direction of the couch that was to be Zuko’s bed.

“I can help you,” Zuko offered.

Katara didn’t have many belongings anymore. She explained that she’d sold many of them before moving to the Fire Nation the first time, and the rest were in a storage unit several miles away.

“I don’t mind it,” she’d said as they placed her meager possessions into boxes, “It means I travel lighter, and it makes me a less obtrusive houseguest.”

She’d scarcely unpacked in the first place since moving in with Sokka and Suki, so together they made quick work of packing everything back up again. Zuko was travelling even lighter, with a single change of clothes and some toiletries crammed into a valise. He stowed it on the armchair when he went to sleep that night.

“You’re absolutely sure about this,” Zuko verified when they were nearly on their way.

“Yes!” She pushed him playfully on the shoulder. “It’s like you don’t want me to come!”

“Of course I do! I just want you to want to.”

“And I’m capable of determining what I do and don’t want, alright?”

So she bid her family goodbye and then they boarded the jet. It wasn’t too long ago they’d taken this same jet the other direction for the peace summit. It was the first time they’d really been able to enjoy each other’s company without the pretense of an interview. It was when they were learning how to be around each other still. They’d made so much progress since then, and yet, the air around them seemed charged with that same nervous energy.

The Caldera’s brilliant reds and oranges were obscured by a thick layer of fog when the plane landed. It was Zuko’s natal home, the only place he’d ever lived, and only now was he growing used to seeing it from above like this. It was a strange notion, that he and Katara were equally used to beholding this same view. He wondered if the sight made her nervous. It certainly had when she first arrived here many months ago, but did it still? Was she anxious about the direction her career was taking?

“Welcome back,” Zuko said when the plane came to a halt on the runway.

Katara, who had been gazing out the window with a mask of vague disinterest, slowly turned to face him.

“Good to be back,” she replied.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara settles into a new normal. Again.

The rule of thumb for the first day of a new job is to always arrive early. Which was why Katara found herself sitting alone in the official council chamber several minutes before anyone else would arrive. In an effort to leave a good first impression with her newfound coworkers, she came early and set about organizing her binders and pens to sit squarely in line with the table in front of her. 

It was likely that they wouldn’t think very highly of her. The odds were against her in that aspect. She was an outsider. What she knew of the Fire Nation came out of the mouth of the fire lord himself, which was, quite honestly, an objectively privileged perspective. And to address the elephant mandrill in the room, the timing of her hire and the start of her relationship with Zuko didn’t help. Perhaps accusations of nepotism could fall on deaf ears if it wasn’t for her clear lack of experience. Zuko was right that she  _ did _ have a PhD in political science, sure, but that alone didn’t qualify her to be a trusted member of the fire lord’s counsel. Her jobs at EKPR only tangentially counted as experience. Her jobs in the political realm consisted largely of canvassing and intern work. She had no idea how such a background would stand up against the other ministers, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. 

As silly as it was, she hoped that an early arrival would persuade her coworkers that she was their equal. Someone that they could take seriously. It would be horrible if she were to arrive late, or worse yet, arrive at the same time as Zuko, and have the whole room jump to conclusions about her character. Plus, some time alone before their arrival gave her some time to organize her thoughts. 

She cleared her throat and it echoed throughout the room. Maybe it was counterproductive arriving this early. For a nation whose core values included “fire” and “light,” their rooms felt alarmingly dark and foreboding. The chamber she found herself in currently had a haunting aura that ran shivers down her spine. A portrait of Fire Lord Ozai watched her from across the room. Why hadn’t they replaced that yet? She remembered Zuko mentioning that he wanted to paint his own royal portrait. From some of the doodles she caught glimpses of, he was quite skilled, but since his main duties demanded most of his attention, she figured that it was difficult to complete those side projects. He’d finish it sooner or later. 

Tomlin was next to arrive. Despite his young age, Zuko had always described Tomlin as being the most responsible, level-headed member of his staff. As his personal assistant, Tomlin was charged with taking minutes at these kinds of meetings. Katara knew him decently well. He managed Zuko’s schedule so the two of them often worked together to find times that she could meet Zuko to record episodes of  _ The Burning Questions.  _ He seemed like a sweet kid, but he knew about as much Earth Tongue as Katara knew Fire Tongue, which made most of their interactions brief. She smiled and waved at him. He returned the gesture, before taking his seat on the opposite end of the table. 

Despite having spent nearly half a year in the Fire Nation, Katara felt like a novice when it came to speaking in Fire Tongue. As a gesture of kindness, Zuko spoke to her almost exclusively in Earth Tongue. She could get by with the basics. She knew how to order her food and ask for directions. It was much more ‘hit or miss’ when it came down to talking about the complexities of the political entanglement that the Fire Nation found itself in internationally. Still, Katara was a fast learner and she prayed that she had what it would take to mount the learning curve. 

With this in mind, Katara let out an audible sigh of relief when it was the minister of finance, Renshu, who came in next. At least now she wasn’t the only one who stuck out. He probably thought the same thing. The green of the tie he donned matched his eyes perfectly. She wondered if the color choice was his own tiny rebellion or if it was pure coincidence. He sat down next to her and extended his hand to shake hers. 

“Minister Katara. It is a pleasure to meet you in person finally,” he said to her in Earth Tongue.

“The pleasure is mine, Minister Renshu.” 

A smile played on his lips. He continued. “We’ll get along just fine as long as you don’t go over budget for international spending. If you can do that, we’ll be just fine.”

Before Katara could respond, a woman, who she presumed to be Jian, the minister of war, snorted loudly from the doorway. 

She sat across from Renshu and Katara, and set her bag down on the table with a reverberative thud. “Is that why you are always mad at me, Renshu?” she gasped in mock horror, “I am wounded.” She spoke Earth Tongue pretty well. Jian directed her attention to Katara. “Don’t worry about him. I’m beyond the budget always.” Katara didn’t know what else to do except nod. Jian directed her attention back to her bag and pulled wrinkled papers out from the bag directly and stacked them haphazardly in front of herself. Renshu bristled.

Katara looked back and forth between the two of them, amused, and then at Tom.  _ Was he already taking minute notes? _

Before Renshu could shoot a response back, the final and oldest minister of the group, Yat-Sen, came into the room. His near-translucent hands shook as he lowered himself into the chair next to Jian. The bickering stopped. Jian gave a glance in his direction before winking at Renshu and started digging at the cuticles of her nails with ferocity.

Yat-Sen started a conversation with Tomlin in Fire Tongue. Katara couldn’t make out most of it, but it was an interesting interaction nonetheless. Tomlin made an effort to sound friendly but serious, like he was chatting with a grandparent who had asked him how school was going. 

Zuko was the last to arrive. And though he was late, his entrance was anything but fashionable. Instead he seemed overworked and under-rested. A stray hair had escaped his top-knot and dangled above his eyes. He blew it out of the way every couple of minutes, only to have it fall back where it had been before. 

Still, when he saw Katara, he smiled. It was a familiar expression by now, one that he often reserved for her. Normally it was reassuring, but today she wished he hadn’t done it. It felt too personal. It felt like it scratched the professional veneer of their meeting. She returned the smile, quickly and half-heartedly, so as to not hurt his feelings. She hoped the other ministers didn’t notice. 

“Everyone,” Zuko began in Fire Tongue. Around the table, everyone snapped to attention. “This is Katara, our new minister of international relations. Some of you may remember her time working here as a journalist.” 

So that was her introduction. Zuko had kept it brief, and she was grateful. It didn’t need to be a whole thing. 

She contemplated following up and introducing herself to the room. She had an introduction prepped too. By the time she got the nerve to speak up, the moment had passed. Zuko shuffled some papers in front of him and addressed Tomlin, “What’s first on the agenda today?”

Tomlin pushed a folder towards him and then one to everyone else in the room. “Well, we have to discuss the Southern Water Tribe alliance and what that means for the future of the Fire Nation.”

Jian laughed, “War. That’s what that means.”

Renshu rolled his eyes. “Well, I for one think it’s good that the Fire Nation is finally trying to help some of the nations that it has wronged.” 

Zuko nodded at them, “So you both approve of continuing the alliance? And support of the Southern Water Tribe independence movement?”

Jian shrugged, which was presumably her way of agreeing. 

Renshu nodded but added an addendum, “I support an alliance. Not a war. We can’t pay for something like that.”

Zuko nodded politely back at him, “What does everyone else think?”

Katara’s reaction was delayed as she translated the conversation into Earth Tongue. She glanced at Yat-Sen, whose head was tilted back against his chair, eyes closed, and snoring quietly. 

She cleared her throat. “I agree with Renshu. The alliance has my support but I think that a war would be painful, especially so soon after the last.” She was slow in her translation, but she was almost certain she got her point across. The group nodded along encouragingly, propelling her further, “I believe we should cautiously push forward on this issue but do our best not to antagonize the Earth Kingdom more than we have to. Prime Minister Kuei is in an election year and it will not be wise for him to start a needless war either. There is a big difference between supporting an independence movement and going to war over it. We will do what we can to help our southern allies while still keeping worldwide peace.” She made a formal effort to make eye contact with everyone in the room and not just Zuko.    
  


Tomlin paused from taking notes to give her a quick thumbs-up.

The meeting continued like that. From that point on, they discussed more domestic matters, which, thankfully, let Katara take the backseat and get acquainted with her new coworkers. So far, Yat-Sen’s main personality trait was that he was old. He slept through the majority of the meeting. A couple times he snored loud enough to wake himself up. It would startle him and he would listen into their conversation wordlessly until a few minutes later he inevitably fell into a slumber once more. Meanwhile, Zuko would barrel through the cacophony of snorts and grunts unfazed, indicating the high frequency at which Yat-Sen took his naps.

Jian was much like Yat-Sen, in that she paid little attention to most matters. But unlike Yat-sen, Jian was full of life and would interject at random intervals with witty remarks or oddball descriptions of some of her side project inventions that she had been working on. She talked the fastest of the bunch, making her the hardest for Katara to understand. Although Katara had to wonder if anyone else could understand her either.

Renshu talked more coherently and at a greater length than Jian did, much to Katara’s relief. Renshu took his job as minister of finance seriously. He behaved as if these financial matters affected him personally, like the mere suggestion of overspending was a direct insult to him and his sensibilities. Nevertheless, she respected his dedication to his duties and quietly concluded that he was her favorite minister of the lot. 

She heard Zuko say her name, and tuned back in just in time to hear him finish his thought.

“Minister Katara and I will be travelling to the Southern Water Tribe next week, but we will still have our weekly conference as planned. Tomlin will make sure that the two of us are both caught up on what you all discussed before we return. I have an appointment I have to get to, if you will all excuse me.” With that, Zuko left. Tomlin followed behind. 

Katara packed up her things and made her way back to her new office. As the minister of international relations, and with the Fire Nation in the middle of an international tug-of-war between the Earth Kingdom and the Southern Water Tribe, she had her work cut out for her. There was a lot of adjusting that she had had to do since she came back from the Earth Kingdom, but she had no problem with having work to do, having had just spent such a long stretch of time without it. Thankfully, her time living under Sokka’s roof was starting to feel more and more like a far off fever dream. She hadn’t been able to fully shake off the lethargy from her bout of depression, but the newfound sense of purpose that came with her new job helped lift her spirits tremendously. The giddy sense of satisfaction she got from her work reminded her of the early days at EKPR when  _ International Hour _ got its first pilot. She was starting on a brand new adventure, and even though she felt largely out of her league, she trusted in her adaptive abilities and hoped that the imposter syndrome would fade with time. She was just grateful to have a direction in life again. 

Of course, having Zuko by her side helped, even if their relationship was still uncertain. They didn’t quite know how to treat each other as they wandered from the safehouse that was their friendship into the murky waters of their burgeoning relationship. Everything was so new and fragile that made the both of them act skittishly in front of each other. For all of its bumbling awkwardness, there was something electrifying about it. There were moments when they fell back into step with one another that reassured Katara that it was worth all the heartache. Of course, they were both always so busy. She hoped that their trip to the Southern Water Tribe would give them more of an opportunity to get accustomed to their new dynamic without interruption. 

But Katara had a lot of work to do before their departure. So she did what she did best, and threw herself into the work in front of her. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Katara take a trip to the Southern Water Tribe

“We’re here!” Katara beamed when the plane touched ground. Looking out the oval-shaped window, Zuko couldn’t help but wonder,  _ where? _

The Southern Water Tribe international airport was hardly an airport at all. There were only two gates, which couldn’t have had more than thirty seats each. There was just a single full-body scanner at security. An apron-clad man at a small coffee cart handed paper cups to his few customers. In one corner was a pay phone.  _ A pay phone _ . Even Zuko knew those were pretty much obsolete.

When Zuko beheld the tiny parking lot lined with dirty snow, he wondered if the car would even know to pick them up here. He was even more astonished to learn that there was no car, not in the sense Zuko had in mind.

“My dad should be here any minute,” Katara announced, consulting a text message she’d just received.

“Your father is picking us up?” Zuko asked. Her father? Not a driver on his behalf, not a personal assistant, but the chief himself?

“Yep!” Katara confirmed. This was normal in the Southern Water Tribe, apparently. She shivered, rubbed her gloved hands together, and exhaled. Her breath came out white and swirling in the biting polar air. The tip of her nose had begun to turn pink. Zuko might have thought it was cute, if he wasn’t reeling from his newfound surroundings and hadn’t also been freezing himself.

“Let’s go back inside. My dad is notoriously late. When he says he’s five minutes away, he really means fifteen.”

Katara knew her father well, evidently, as fifteen minutes and thirty-six seconds later, a rusty orange pickup truck rolled into the parking lot. It was rusty in both senses: burnt orange in hue, and also covered in patches of oxidized metal. Through the driver’s seat window Zuko could see a smiling Chief Hakoda.

They grabbed their bags, loaded them in the bed of the ancient truck, and greeted the chief. Zuko thought this must’ve been the first time he’d ever loaded his own suitcase into a car.

Zuko was mildly taken aback when Hakoda pulled him into a hug.

“Katara told me the big news. Any boyfriend of Katara’s is family now!” Hakoda declared, probably in response to whatever Zuko’s surprised face looked like.

Hakoda’s truck didn’t really have seats; instead it had a cloth-covered bench that stretched from the driver’s side to the passenger’s. Hakoda opened the door and they were instructed to “pile in!”

“C’mon, I don’t bite!” Hakoda urged when Zuko hesitated. He ended up sandwiched between Katara and her father for the duration of the ride.

“Sorry I’m late,” Hakoda said, but his tone was more conversational than apologetic, “I had to scrape the ice off my windshield.” He patted the steering wheel affectionately.

“Dad, why didn’t you just take the SUV? It’s been in the garage, right?”

“Carburetor’s busted again. I’ve been trying to fix it in my spare time.”

“Just take it to a shop, you’ll get it running faster that way.”

“And waste my money on those scam artists? When I’m perfectly capable of fixing it myself?” Hakoda chuckled.

Zuko felt a bit like he was watching a tennis match, eyes darting from left to right when the people on either side of him spoke. Rather than insert himself into what seemed like a family matter, Zuko stayed silent and gazed through the dirt-splattered windshield. It struck him as he watched the snow banks and pine trees drift past that he’d never before been in a place that felt so small and so desolate. He’d certainly never been anywhere so cold. He’d only ever seen snow before on the screens of TVs and computers.

“How far are we from the city?” Zuko inquired once the other two had finished their squabbling.

After a pause, Hakoda chuckled again. “The city? You’re looking at it! My place is a few miles out. Oh! That’s Oki’s,” he remarked on a single-story log building to the left. Zuko would have mistaken it for a private residence, were it not for the neon signs in the window. “I’ll have to take you two there.”

“What’s Oki’s?” Zuko asked.

Katara rolled her eyes fondly. “It’s a tavern. Dad loves it there. It’s kind of a tradition that we all eat dinner there whenever we visit home.”

“Best beer and burgers in town!” Hakoda grinned. “You like beer and burgers, Zuko?”

Zuko had had beer before, but he preferred sake or whisky. He was fairly certain he’d never had a burger. 

“Yes, I do,” was all he said.

“Great! We can go there tonight!”

“Alright. You could pick us up from our hotel, perhaps?” Zuko ventured. He didn’t want to make any rude presumptions, but he wasn’t sure they had taxis here.

He knew he’d made some sort of miscalculation when he was confronted with another awkward pause. It was Katara who first spoke up.

“Actually, Zuko, we’ll be staying with my dad. I hope that’s alright?”

“Ah. Yes, of course…” Zuko had never stayed anywhere besides his own royal chambers and his favorite penthouse in downtown Ba Sing Se (and, technically, Sokka and Suki’s couch that one time). But the last thing he wanted was for the chief to think he was a stuck-up jerk.

“No need for a hotel when you’ve got family!” Hakoda boomed amiably. “Zuko, you can take Sokka’s old room.”

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t lived there in decades. That’s why it’s actually somewhat clean,” Katara informed him in a hushed tone.

“Besides, there aren’t many places to stay in town. There’s the Evergreen, I guess, but I’ve never liked that place…” Hakoda carried on, talking more to himself than either of his two passengers. “Home sweet home!” he announced. A small cluster of houses came into view. They drove past several before reaching their destination. At one of them, Hakoda brought the truck to a halt and hand-cranked the window down, letting in the frigid air.

“Kirima!” He called with one arm out the window. At first Zuko thought he was addressing an empty house until he spotted a woman smoking a cigarette on the covered porch. She wore a thick bubble coat over what appeared to be a nightgown.

“Hakoda!” She rasped, maybe from years of smoking. “Your daughter’s coming into town any day now, isn’t that right?”

“She’s in the car with me now! Brought her new boyfriend!” Katara leaned forward into the woman’s line of vision and waved. Zuko shyly followed her example. 

“New boyfriend, huh? Make sure that one doesn’t give you any trouble. Katara’s a good girl, she deserves a gentleman.”

“Don’t I know it! You have a good day now!” Hakoda rolled up the window, finally. Zuko had begun to shiver.

“Kirima, the neighbor lady. She’s super nice. Collects my mail when I’m off doing business in the Earth Kingdom,” he explained.

“Ah,” Zuko acknowledged, far more preoccupied with breathing a small amount of fire into his frozen hands.

Minutes later they arrived at the house. When Zuko stepped out of the truck and into about a foot of snow, he realized he shouldn’t have worn suede boots.

“Dad, why didn’t you shovel the driveway?” Katara complained, apparently having encountered the same problem. Her shoes were more waterproof, at least.

“I figured I’d wait until you arrived! You can do it in a fraction of the time with your bending.”

“I’ve been home five seconds and I’m already being given chores,” Katara muttered, pulling hers and Zuko’s suitcases from the truck bed.

Katara’s childhood home was something of a hybrid between a house and a log cabin. It had a covered porch, like the others they’d driven past, made with slabs of wood that still had a layer of bark on the outside. On either side of the door were two painted totem poles that stood about half of Zuko’s height. The home had a fabulous view of the snow-covered mountains that cradled the entire tribe. (Everywhere in the town did, really. The mountains were hard to miss, and the tribe was so small.) Hakoda propped open the door, and the metal screen door that protected it, and ushered them both inside. Thankfully, the inside was warm.

Both Katara and Zuko surveyed the place upon entry, but Katara was probably motivated by nostalgia instead of curiosity. She kicked her boots off and smiled.

“Is it like you remembered?” Hakoda teased. Katara shoved his shoulder playfully.

“Come on, I haven’t been gone that long! I was here two Winter Solstices ago.”

“Feels longer,” Hakoda insisted.

Zuko was hardly listening. Instead, he was transfixed with a series of photos hanging near the coat rack, which depicted Katara and Sokka as children. In the still images they were engrossed in the kinds of activities children ought to be, like making snowmen, eating drippy ice cream cones, or building lopsided structures out of pipe cleaners and popsicle sticks. He spotted another photo of a woman who must’ve been Katara’s mother. He decided not to ask about that one.

It didn’t really matter, because Katara saw him staring. She tactfully decided not to comment on the matter.

“Hey,” she nudged him gently, “You wanna go unpack? I’ll show you where Sokka’s room is.”

“Um, yes. Good idea.”

After dragging his belongings to the foot of the twin bed that Sokka slept in as a child and then spending several hours listening to Katara and Hakoda reminisce about their shared past, Zuko found himself seated at the bar of Oki’s Tavern. He’d made a point to change his shoes first. Actually, he’d changed his entire outfit, after Hakoda informed him that the Oki’s crowd didn’t care much for “fancy stuff.” He’d had to borrow an old shirt of Sokka’s, as he didn’t actually own any t-shirts.

“Chief!” The bartender greeted them when they walked in. Several other men at the bar turned around.

“Yuruk!” Hakoda shouted over the noise at the bar. “Pana, Kallik!” He added when he spotted the other men. They rose from their seats and exchanged some kind of handshake in which they gripped each other by the forearm.

“Does your father know everyone in this tribe?” Zuko whispered from where he and Katara were standing several feet away.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Katara whispered back. They both turned their attention back to Hakoda and his friends when they heard Katara’s name.

“It’s been ages! How old are you now? Nineteen?” The bartender exclaimed, appraising Katara in an avuncular sort of way.

“Twenty-seven,” Katara corrected, causing the other men to burst to a chorus of hearty laughter at their buddy’s expense. “This is my boyfriend, Zuko,” Katara added when they quieted down. 

“Ah, yeah,” one of them nodded, stroking his scraggly beard. “The fire lord guy from your radio show.”

The mood of the conversation had shifted. It wasn’t hostile, exactly, but it wasn’t quite friendly either. The men examined Zuko with unabashed curiosity. It didn’t escape Zuko’s notice that there were three of them and one of him, and they were burly and had probably had a couple beers.

“That’s me. It is an honor to meet you all, and to be visiting your beautiful tribe,” he said, addressing them with a proper Fire Nation bow.

They were clearly shocked into silence, but less obvious was why. Had Zuko misspoken again? He was only trying to be polite.

Suddenly all three of them, plus Hakoda, filled the bar with another round of raucous laughter. The man to the bartender’s left slapped Zuko on the back.

“You’re alright,” the man told Zuko, grinning broadly.

They sat at a nearby table and ordered some food. Rather, Hakoda ordered for all of them, because he was confident that Hefty Hien’s Triple Bacon Burger was not to be missed out on. When it came to drinks, Zuko ordered the same beer Hakoda was having, since he scarcely recognized any of the words on the menu.

“You’re gonna love it,” Hakoda kept saying. “Oh! Make sure to get the onion rings. Best in town.”

Zuko went to bed that night with a full stomach and a mind that wouldn’t stop racing. His legs extended further than the bed did, so he had to lie on his side to ensure that his entire body was covered. In these temperatures, that was an absolute necessity.

When he was in the midst of trying to bully his brain into sleeping, the door creaked open. He was momentarily gripped with terror before he heard Katara’s soft voice. He couldn’t help it; his past experiences with unknown visitors entering his bedroom unannounced were not pleasant ones.

“Hey. Are you doing okay?”

Zuko sat upright, and did his best to make room for her on the narrow bed.

“I am fine. Why?”

“You just seemed, mmm, contemplative today.”

That was fair. Zuko had been contemplative. He was contemplating that this was where Katara had spent the first eleven years of her life, the place she would always consider home on some level, and what that meant for her now. Was there room for someone like Zuko in a place like this? The Southern Water Tribe was warm, not in its climate, obviously, but in its spirit. The small wooden houses invited passersby. The people invited conversation. Zuko felt not embraced by it, but like an interloper. A spiritual cold breeze, cutting everyone else’s warmth. He had a royal portrait of himself hanging in the palace gallery, but no one had ever hung photos of him near a coat rack. The only people who ever took his photo at all were complete strangers, and he’d preferred that they didn’t.

“Yes, just tired. Very much has happened today, you know?” He answered, trying to sound unbothered. He knew Katara was too clever for that, so he wasn’t sure why he’d tried.

She buried her legs under the covers and rested her head on his shoulder. “You know… it’s okay if you don’t feel at ease here. I know it’s not exactly what you’re used to,” she made a sweeping gesture that Zuko could just barely make out in the unlit room. “It’s no palace, that’s for sure.”

“No no! I don’t  _ need  _ to be in a palace all of the time. I would like to believe that I am not my money.”

She squeezed his hand in the dark.

“I know. I’ve never thought that about you. But what is it, then? Something’s up. I can tell.”

Zuko paused. He had to weigh whether this was worth explaining to her. He came to the inevitable conclusion that just about everything was worth confiding in her, if he wanted to invest in her. Which he did.

“Well, your father, he—”

Katara moved her head away from his shoulder. He felt her body tense.

“What? Did he say something to you? Look, he can be kind of weird when I bring guys home, so just don’t take it personally—”

“No! It’s, um, something else. It’s just that… he doesn’t seem like a ruler. He’s too nice. He knows everybody. He cares about everybody. His people like him. He lives in a normal house. He drives a normal truck. He has a normal family. It’s all so…”

“…Different from the world you’re from?”

Zuko sighed. Yeah, that about summed it up.

He felt Katara move closer.

“Zuko… it’s not too late for you to be normal, too, you know. Maybe not normal, because of your job, but… you can still surround yourself with people who love you.”

They fell asleep like that, fingers interlaced and leaning on each other, on Sokka’s old twin bed.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakoda takes action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for being unresponsive to comments recently. There is a lot going on right now, both in my life personally and also in the world. I felt preoccupied, and I found myself at a loss for words even when I did have some free time. 
> 
> That being said, please don't let this dissuade you from commenting! I absolutely love hearing from you guys. It makes my day, even if I don't reply to that specific comment. Thank you all for being wonderful readers.

Katara woke up the next morning to the kind of cold that seeped into her bones, filling them with a deep ache. She let out a shuddering breath and watched as it billowed through the air above her. Though Zuko was still asleep, she could feel him shiver as he tried to shake off the cold. She carefully squirmed out from under the arm that he had draped across her, slid on a pair of slippers, and padded out into the family living room to check on the thermostat. It looked normal, which was in direct contrast to the bracingly frigid temperature of the house. It must be broken. 

She knew that something had to be done about it, and since her father and Zuko were still asleep, she set about starting a fire. Once she was certain that the fire wasn’t going to die out, she got herself a hot cup of coffee, and then pulled a chair up directly to the fire to warm herself. She rubbed her hands against her legs in a vain attempt to get her blood flowing. 

_ Was the South Pole always this cold? _ She wondered. Reaching back into the recesses of her memories, she found vague memories of playing outside with Sokka in their adolescence, both drenched from rolling around in the snow and both entirely unbothered by it. Perhaps she had grown unaccustomed to the climate over the years, but nevertheless, the weather was always a concern  _ outside.  _ She wondered how long her dad had let this go on. Between this and the icy driveway, he seemed determined to add himself to Katara’s unending list of things to worry about. 

The longer Katara sat in the cold, the more upset she became. She had a nasty habit of rehearsing mental fights with people. Sometimes it was beneficial, burning out her anger before she could go after whoever it was in real life. Other times she would only work herself up more, making the actual fight all the more explosive. Unfortunately for Hakoda, that morning her inner dialogue took the latter direction. By the time he came out from his bedroom, she was already poised to strike. 

He sat down next to her with a wry smile and proclaimed in his usual chipper demeanor, “Sure is a bit nippy this morning, eh?”

“Dad…” She postured, tapping the rim of her mug, “What’s wrong with the furnace?”

“Oh that old thing? She’s seen better days. Sometimes you have to give her a good kick. Goes out every now and then.” He shrugged, nonplussed. 

“You do know we live in a frozen tundra, right? It was freezing last night.”

“A little bit of cold is good for ya. Don’t go soft on me!” He elbowed her playfully. She shifted away from him. 

“No, I’m not going soft, you just aren’t taking care of yourself. It’s reckless. And honestly, it’s inconsiderate. How do you think Sokka and I would feel if we heard that you got stranded Tui-and-La-know-where because your car broke down? Or that you slipped and fell on the ice in the driveway and broke something? Dad, you could die in your sleep if you went to bed without a heater in temperatures like this.”

He chuckled and itched at the back of his neck. “You make me sound so fragile. I’m fine, Katara. No need to worry about your ol’ dad.” 

“Well you aren’t giving me much of an option here except to worry. I know it isn’t a money thing. Why are you so opposed to making things easier on yourself?”

His attempts at peacemaking weren’t going to work on her today. 

“Katara...” he began, carefully selecting his words, “I don’t think the problem here is that I’m not taking care of myself. Perhaps your perspective has shifted since you started living in a palace?”

“Well that’s just unfair! You don’t have to be royalty to have a functioning furnace. And also, you’re the chief. Maybe you deserve to have a nice living space! I mean, how long have we been talking about popping the top of the house to make room for your home office? Why are you so dead-set on living in discomfort?”

“There isn’t anything wrong with simple living! I’m happy with how things are. No need to fix it if it ain’t broke.”

“Dad,” she let out an exasperated sigh and spoke firmly. “It is ‘broke.’ This house is falling apart. It’s embarrassing. How can you live like this?” 

“You used to live like this. You’ve just forgotten where you came from.” He looked hurt. Katara was beyond caring at this point. 

“Yeah, well maybe it’s for the best that I forget those parts.”

Hakoda stared at her in surprise. Katara, not one to back down, held his gaze. Hakoda cleared his throat, mumbled about going and making breakfast, and left the room. 

Katara tapped her feet. Why was her Dad so  _ frustrating?  _ Couldn’t he see that Katara just wanted him to take care of himself? Before this trip, she thought she could trust Hakoda to live alone and take care of himself. He wasn’t that old, not yet, but maybe she’d have to reconsider. She didn’t have the time to be running down here every time something went wrong, but what else was she supposed to do if Hakoda wouldn’t cooperate?

Who was he to judge whether she’d forgotten where she came from? He was the one who sent her away! If he wanted her to be accustomed to living like this, then he should have thought about that decades ago. She felt like screaming. She had a lot of pent up energy she didn’t want to let loose on an unsuspecting Zuko. Instead, she got up, shoved her feet into a pair of her old boots by the door, and went outside to clear the driveway. She bent large slabs of ice off the driveway and directed them into a large pile on their lawn. At one point she lost her footing and nearly slipped. Then, her anger flaring back up, started grumbling to no one in particular about the dangers of walking across ice like this. 

Katara looked up from her work to see Zuko peering through the front window, staring at her curiously. Embarrassed by her outburst, she deflated. She waved a gloved hand back to him and finished clearing the ice. 

She came back inside to see what was going on. Zuko wore a furskin draped around his shoulders and waited for her to stomp all the snow off of her boots before he handed her a cup of coffee. His nose was a rosy pink from the cold that he was too polite to bring up. 

It was embarrassing, that he should see her home like this. The second she thought it, she hated herself for it, but it was true. Compared with his, her upbringing was so quant. It was all she could think about from the moment they laid eyes on the SWT from the plane overhead. It held none of the grandeur that Zuko was accustomed to. It was a country the size of a village. She didn’t want Zuko to see it. She’d rather let him imagine a version of the tribe with grand ice palaces and actual power, like the North had. Instead, he had the harsh realization that this small town was what he had risked everything to defend. It wasn’t much of an alliance.

Quarreling with her dad only exacerbated those kinds of feelings, Katara was sure. But the state of things here legitimized racist sentiments that Zuko had surely heard about tribal people that live smaller, lower-quality lifestyles. The South was a proud country, even if it was small, but her dad’s apathy towards basic necessities like heat made it harder for her to get that point across. 

She didn’t know how to verbalize all of this to him. To admit her shame, both for having come from a place like this  _ and  _ for feeling like she had to apologize for it. It wasn’t an easy conversation, and one that she wasn’t yet ready to navigate. 

Instead, she asked, “Where’s my Dad?”

“I think he said he was walking over to Bato’s so they could ride to the community center together. He said something about wanting to arrive before anyone else to rehearse?”

“Oh, okay. We should meet him soon. In case he needs anything, you know.” Katara hoped that it wasn’t because of their conversation that Hakoda had left without them. Maybe she was too hard on him. Today probably wasn’t the best day to go pick a fight.

“Okay, give me a minute to get dressed.”

\-------------------

It wasn’t exactly hard to tell when Hakoda was upset. He was never good at hiding it. Kya always joked that it made him look bloated somehow. She’d laugh, and even praise him for it. Told him that “he wore his heart on his sleeve” and that, of course, would butter him up enough to calm down. 

There wasn’t a chance of calming down from this time. Bato knew that he was upset. Obviously he did, he wasn’t stupid. Unlike Kya, Bato let Hakoda stew in silence. He knew that Hakoda would open up when he was ready, which he wasn’t yet. Instead he looked out the window at his neighborhood. His home, the one he grew up in. The one that his father grew up in and his father before him. The same one that Katara didn’t.

That was the biggest tragedy of all, wasn’t it? Katara lacked all sense of sentimentality towards this place. She would never  _ truly  _ get how special this place was and how rare it was to find a community as tight knit as this one. When they were still in school, she and Sokka would always come home for summer vacation, but it was nothing more than that: a vacation. It was never enough to foster an attachment. Their little fight demonstrated that much. 

Sometimes Hakoda worried that it was a mistake to send her to Ba Sing Se. Growing up in a large city with the trendy shops and the fancy foods had to do something to a person, he figured. People lived and died to protect what their ancestors built here centuries ago, but Katara didn’t seem to see the value in that. If she had it her way, she’d probably do something crazy like demolish Oki’s and build a trendy eatery that sold burgers made from chickpeas. 

Bato pulled into the parking lot. Hakoda was in the wrong headspace for this. This wasn’t how he had planned this day going. Today could possibly be the most important day of his career and all he wanted was his daughter by his side to celebrate. He didn’t want to remember today like this. Still, he didn’t have much of a choice. There was no backing out now. 

Bato helped him transport some supplies from the car to the community center. Volunteers were outside already, helping set up for the event. Hakoda moved past them and made camp in a room in the back, behind the stage, so that they could prepare while the auditorium filled up. He paced about nervously, rehearsing the speech he had written out on some recycled notecards (he flipped them over to find his outdated grocery lists). Bato cracked open a couple of beers and handed one to Hakoda. He drank some in an attempt to calm his nerves. 

It wasn’t long before Katara and Zuko arrived. They came in, and, after a brief round of hellos, the room fell back into an awkward silence. Hakoda would be damned if he were the one to break it. Zuko looked back and forth between him and Katara in confusion. Bato got up from where he was sitting and nudged Zuko, “Hey, you mind helping me go hang up some streamers outside?”

Zuko nodded, and as they were walking out, he asked, “What are streamers?” 

Hakoda felt Katara watching him and rather than face her, he instead busied himself with undoing and redoing the buttons of the cuffs of his flannel.

Katara cleared her throat, “You’re going to do great out there.”

He turned, and saw that she was standing now. He nodded. “Thank you.”

She kept watching him. “Dad, about earlier...”

“Don’t worry about it,” he snapped back. “You said what you had to say.” 

Katara frowned. “I think I took it too far. I just worry about you is all.”

Hakoda finally met her eyes. “But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m going to make sure that I stick around as long as possible for you kids… I just don’t want you to think you’re too good for the tribe. Too good for me.”

“Dad, I could never! You know I love the tribe. I want to protect it just as much as you do. That’s why I got into politics in the first place!” She paused, “I’m sorry. I think I let my ego get in the way. I was all worried about what Zuko would think. I just wanted to make sure he got the chance to see the best parts of the tribe.”

“And did he?”

“Well, he got to spend time with the chief, didn’t he?”

Hakoda smiled. He pulled Katara into a hug. “I’m sorry too. Maybe I’ve been putting off fixing some things in my life.”

Katara nodded into his hug and then looked up at him. Kya’s eyes shone into his. “I know. You worry a lot about making sure everyone else is taken care of. Sokka, the tribe, me... You need to make sure you’re giving yourself the same courtesy.”

Hakoda let out a long sigh and shook his head, “When did you get so mature?”

Katara laughed and pulled away, “I don’t know. Learned a lot from my dad, I suppose.” 

Just then, Bato came back into the room with Zuko in tow. “Chief, they’re ready for ya when you are.”

He looked from Bato to Zuko to Katara. Then back to Zuko. He looked paler than usual, he suspected from the nerves. His fight with Katara made him forget how nerve-wracking this must be for him as well. “Hey, if I haven’t thanked you before, I’m thanking you now. This wouldn’t be possible without you. You won’t regret it.” 

Zuko, surprised by the sudden attention, composed himself and responded with a polite “of course.” Katara took Zuko’s hand and squeezed. 

“Alright! It’s go time,” Hakoda said, more to himself than to anyone else in the room. 

Katara gave him a quick “good luck!” and then he walked out and onto the stage. He could spot families from all across the tribe in attendance. They let out whoops and hollers when they spotted him ascend to the podium. When he began planning the event, he insisted that it be public. It had never been his leadership style to make big decisions from up on an ivory tower. What he was about to do would impact them all equally. They had just as much of a right to be there as he did. 

Hakoda gestured for them to quiet down. The room fell silent except for some stray kids playing in the back of the room. “Welcome, folks!” he projected his voice as he made his way over to the microphone. “Glad to see all of you here today. No need to beat a dead seal horse; you know why we’re here. I’ll try to keep it short.” The room responded with snorts and chuckles. 

“Today,” he began, pulling out his notecards. He made sure not to read the grocery lists. “Today we’ll be signing our nation’s new constitution, marking the Southern Water Tribe’s separation from the Northern Water Tribe. I am honored to be here with you all as we make the next step towards our independence. It’s about damn time for our proud nation to stand on its own for the rest of the world to see.” Cheers erupted once more from the crowd. Hakoda paused for them to calm down. “Though this signals our Tribe’s independence and split from the north, we hold the highest respect for our tribal sister, and we have the highest hopes to ally ourselves with them in the near future. Without their continued guidance in our years of hardship, we would not be here today.”  _ There _ , Hakoda thought,  _ hopefully that might do some damage control _ .

Hakoda continued, “In recent times, we have seen a restoration of the world’s balance that tragedy and violence for over a century has misshapen. We have lost some of our brothers and sisters in the fight to keep our community safe and whole. We will honor them and their sacrifice by granting our strong country its independence at long last. Here today, we advance these efforts to restore world balance. This day will go down in history as the day we once again aligned the nations as our ancestors, from the Water Tribes and around the world, intended them to be.” He paused and thought of Kya. He prayed that she was proud of him. 

“Now more than ever, as we walk into these unprecedented times, we must remember where we came from; that it is our traditions that guide us, it is our strength that unites us, and it is our community that breathes life into our tribe. We take these next steps together into statehood together. As a family.” Members of the audience, his tribal brothers and sisters, nodded along to his speech. He looked down and saw Katara beaming up at him. It was then that he finally felt fully validated in his decision. This was exactly what his tribe needed. 

He cleared his throat, “Right then! Let’s get this signed so we can go enjoy the afterparty, huh?” He made his way over to the table and just like that, the constitution, that he and other important members of the community put countless hours into creating, was signed into law. Chief Arnook would receive their declaration of independence shortly after. 

Outside of the town hall were dozens of picnic tables and an already smoking barbecue for the crowd that piled out of the community center and into the parking lot. Streamers were strung from light pole to light pole. As everyone got their plates filled and sat to eat and chat, someone brought out a large speaker that started playing music. It wasn’t long after that the food ran out and kids started dancing along the periphery of the tables. Soon after, the tables were pushed aside entirely, and the adults, young and old, joined in. Katara convinced Hakoda to get up from his chair, ignore the ache in his back, and join in. They spent the rest of the night dancing, celebrating the birth of a new nation. 

The next morning, Hakoda called a workman to come and fix his heater. 


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chief Arnook gets some bad news. And then he gets even more bad news.

The bastard actually followed through with it. No, no. That wasn’t quite right. Hakoda wasn’t a bastard. In fact there was a time that Arnook might have considered him something of a friend, sort of. Maybe not a friend, per se, but a colleague he could get along with. Hakoda was passionate and dedicated, and his was a leadership style that Arnook could respect. So, then, he wasn’t a bastard, but still. This decision was uncharacteristically reckless and hostile.

Maybe Zuko was the bastard. Hakoda’s people had been murmuring about independence for years but the chief had never done anything about it. Not much had changed between then and now, not in the Southern Water Tribe, at least. The only difference was Zuko. That had it to be it, then. He was the bastard behind this.

That still didn’t sit right. Arnook had met Zuko, and, being over thirty years his senior, couldn’t help but see Zuko for the frightened little boy he was. He wasn’t much older than Arnook’s own daughter, Yue. If anything, he’d been only a pawn in a scheme that was much older than his reign. Perhaps even older than him.

Maybe there didn’t have to be a bastard. It wasn’t a matter of blame, it just… was. But that didn’t change the piece of paper positioned ominously in the center of Arnook’s desk.  _ A declaration of independence _ . What was this, a movie? The declaration was so dramatic, so impassioned and yet, this was real life. In Arnook’s experience, life was rarely this theatrical. Being the chief of his tribe had been surprisingly banal. Even when the sister tribes merged, it hadn’t been such a big deal. It was a safety precaution. It wasn’t a conquest; it was just the practical thing to do. But this… this was anything but practical.

The fact that Arnook didn’t blame Hakoda didn’t make him any less upset about it. This was a betrayal, no doubt. He’d tried to make them see reason, and quite honestly, he thought he’d been successful. Of course this whole thing would blow over. Of course this was just a blip, a temporary disturbance in the normal order of things. But no. It was real now, really real, and the piece of paper on his desk proved it. He was tempted to rip it apart, but he knew that wouldn’t do any good. The news had already covered it, and it’s not like there weren’t any copies floating around elsewhere.

Some might say he’d been arrogant about the situation. He preferred to think of his attitude as confident. He simply hadn’t been worried. He figured the measure would fail, the world would forget this ever happened, and everyone could move on with their lives. After all, he had the Earth Kingdom promising to go to war for him if necessary. He’d been so sure it would never be necessary.

The declaration didn’t declare war. Not directly. But, well, Arnook had to, didn’t he? It was tacitly understood. What kind of leader would he be if he just allowed territories to slip away as they pleased? It felt ridiculous, terrifying, and almost embarrassing, but… he had to declare war against the Southern Water Tribe. The terrifying part was that everyone knew this wouldn’t actually be a war between the Southern and Northern Water Tribes. In writing the fateful document he’d been compelled, no,  _ cornered _ into drafting, he’d be thrusting the Earth Kingdom into war against the Fire Nation. Again. After the first one, which lasted a hundred fucking years, just ended.

Arnook released a sigh.

It’s not like he had a choice, right?

\-----

He wrote to Kuei. Kuei didn’t respond. At first Arnook was relieved. He felt like he’d done his due diligence, and so long as Kuei hadn’t replied yet, he didn’t have to think about it.

But then time pressed on. Arnook grew concerned. The news was bad news, yes. It was a letter Kuei probably would have preferred not to receive. But it wasn’t Arnook’s fault. They had an agreement; neither of them could help that. All Kuei had to do was follow procedure.

Right?

\------

He flew to Ba Sing Se. Enough was enough. He didn’t know why Kuei had chosen to dillydally, and Arnook resolved to get to the bottom of it. In person, in Kuei’s own office, where he couldn’t ignore him.

“Chief Arnook,” Kuei had greeted him when they met. It was an odd greeting, given their prior rapport. Stiff and formal.

“Hello Kuei. I thought we might plan our response to Hakoda’s declaration,” Arnook replied. There was no sense belaboring the issue.

“That response being…”

“A declaration of war, of course.”

Kuei was silent.

“Kuei, I don’t like this any more than you do. It’s unpalatable, to say the least, to be declaring war against my own sister tribe, but it just has to be done,” Arnook pressed.

Kuei sighed and adjusted his cufflinks.

“And you’re free to write one such declaration, if you choose,” he answered.

Arnook furrowed his brow. He had assumed, perhaps foolishly, that they would be on the same page about this.

“Well Hakoda isn’t leaving me much of a choice, and besides, I thought it best to write the declaration together…”

Kuei’s face contorted into a strange expression. It was filled with dread, but also something else. Smugness? 

“Yes, well. You see, I won’t be declaring war against the Southern Water Tribe, so if you’re inclined to do so, you’ll have to do it alone, I’m afraid.”

_ What? _ Not only was this unacceptable, but it was also nonsensical. They were allies, after all. 

“Alone!? But our alliance…!”

Kuei folded his hands in his lap placidly. “Our alliance doesn’t dictate that I go to war on your behalf. I can, of course, if I choose. But I… don’t choose.”

“It does though!”

“It doesn’t,” Kuei’s face was now firmly more smug than anything else. “You don’t believe me?”

“No, I don’t! That’s the entire point of making an alliance.” Arnook crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back, away from Kuei. He could feel his disgust building for the man who was supposed to be his ally, his tribe’s salvation.

“Right,” Kuei rose and crossed to the other side of the room. He retrieved a sheet of paper from his files. “Let’s take a look at the language.”

“I remember the language. I was there when it was written. The Earth Kingdom is to undertake any effort to preserve the future of the Northern Water Tribe by means other than peaceful, should it become necessary,” Arnook hissed.

“The Earth Kingdom is to  _ consider _ any effort to preserve the future of the Northern Water Tribe by means other than peaceful, should it become necessary,” Kuei corrected.

“It doesn’t—! Let me see that,” Arnook demanded, snatching the paper from Kuei’s hands.

Unfortunately, Kuei had read it verbatim. But that was hardly the only clause in the agreement. There were others that bound Kuei to come to Arnook’s aid.

Right?

“Here!” Arnook announced, and began to read from the paper, “ _ It is the policy of the Earth Kingdom to preserve and promote extensive, close, and friendly commercial, cultural, and other relations between the people of the Earth Kingdom and the people of the Northern Water Tribe _ .”

“Mmm,” Kuei hummed thoughtfully. “Yes. But ‘promote’ is such a tricky word, isn’t it? What really goes into a promotion? Not war, necessarily.”

Arnook couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was being double-crossed, and for what? What did Kuei stand to gain from supporting an impoverished polar wasteland and the most unstable dictatorship in the world?

He wouldn’t let him get away with this.

“Here!” He boomed, and gestured to another section of the agreement. “ _ To declare that peace and stability in the area are of interest to the Earth Kingdom, and are matters of international concern _ .”

Kuei chuckled. “Well, I’m internationally concerned, aren’t you? A civil war is hardly peace and stability for your tribe.”

Unbelievable.

“…You’re really not going to help me, are you?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Why?” Arnook pleaded.

“It’s bad optics. The Southern Water Tribe is a lovable underdog, really, and the Fire Nation is trying to get a fresh start. How would it look if I went to war with them so soon after we fought to make things better? The people are tired of war, you know.”

The people were tired of war. But the people were also mistrustful of the Fire Nation, and this would only demonstrate that the young Fire Lord Zuko had real power. Kuei wasn’t afraid of the Fire Nation, was he?

Zuko was meant to be Kuei’s puppet. Kuei pulled the strings, not Zuko. Surely Kuei could just steer Zuko out of this, couldn’t he? Certainly he had nothing to fear from his pet dictator. If not fear, then what?

At some point during Arnook’s mental battle, Kuei had poured himself a glass of water. He set it on his cherry wood desk with a delicate clink.

…The Fire Nation was the largest exporter of cherry wood in the world. What else in this room was a product of Fire Nation exports? The silk of Kuei’s necktie? The fucking coffee he drank every morning?

This wasn’t about him, and it wasn’t about Zuko either. Not really. Least of all was it about Hakoda. Peace with the Fire Nation had opened up a whole new channel of international trade, a bridge that Kuei was loath to burn so soon after it had been built. Arnook stood no chance. Kuei was never going to help him, and he’d known it from the start.

His civil war was cancelled.

“Thanks a lot for your help,” Arnook snarled, getting up from his seat. It was hardly a scathing insult, but Arnook’s mind was reeling too much to come up with anything better. He didn’t care. He just needed out of that room, away from Kuei. He needed to go back to his tribe and regroup. He needed to figure the way out of this that would make him look least like a fool.

He’d been dreading war, but he found himself dreading peace even more. Without Earth Kingdom support, there was no other option but to give into Hakoda’s demands.

What was he really losing? The Southern Water Tribe’s population was negligible. They had some natural resources, yes, but nothing that the Northern Water Tribe didn’t also have. Their people were poor, many of them uneducated… really, he was better off without it.

Right?

If anything, their relationship had benefited Hakoda more than Arnook. Being a leader was hard, and Hakoda had only ever been a symbolic chief. Soon he’d be faced with decisions that would keep him up at night, forced to make choices that would haunt him for the rest of his life. There was no way he was prepared for the job. How could he be? He’d have no clue what hit him, and his new “friend” the fire lord couldn’t help. Zuko had even less experience than Hakoda did.

Maybe this wasn’t the worst outcome after all. The optics would be bad; Kuei was right about that. Arnook could hardly allow the southern tribe’s secession without appearing flaky and weak. But once the public forgot about that… he would take a sick sort of pleasure in watching his sister tribe fall apart. They were the fools, not him, and they had no idea what they were themselves getting into.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of telephone

_ Hakoda,  _

_ It was with great interest that I received your declaration of independence this last week. It pleases me to hear that our you and your tribe have, in your opinion, developed to the point of severing ties with our own. I look forward to hearing about your great successes in the coming years.  _

_ Good luck. _

_ Chief Arnook _

Hakoda stood up from his chair. He didn’t know why. Maybe he was just excited. Laughter bubbled up out of him. There wouldn’t be a war. His tribe would face no repercussions. Nothing but this, scathing but nevertheless harmless, letter. There was no way he could have gotten out of this with the best possible outcome. Arnook would have to be crazy to just sit by, right? There wasn’t an explanation for it. The North had the backing of the Earth Kingdom. Unless, for some reason, Kuei had backed out, a war was the only logical next step. Kuei must have jumped ship. He didn’t want to deal with a war again. It would be a bad look for him to go these great lengths for peace to only go back into battle the second conflict arose. The Earth Kingdom’s self-absorption actually paid off. For the first time in quite some time, he was grateful for the sonofabitch. 

He wanted to get the letter framed. More than that, he wanted to tell someone the good news. He had to call Katara. She pushed this whole thing along, far before Hakoda himself was on board. She ought to know first. He dialed her up, well aware of how early in the morning it was in the Fire Nation. 

Katara picked up, “Dad? Are you okay?”

“You’ll never guess what I’m looking at right now.” Hakoda responded enigmatically. She was never going to believe him. 

She went quiet and then responded, “What are you looking at right now?”

“I’m looking at a letter from Arnook. He’s wishing us luck.”

“What?” Through the phone, Hakoda could hear her getting up. “Read it to me. The whole thing.”

He read it. Twice actually, at Katara’s behest. Hakoda didn’t mind. He still hadn’t processed it fully either.

“I can’t believe it,” Katara laughed. 

“Well you better believe it! They’re backing down. Your old man is a bonafide world leader now.”

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” Katara responded, a smile in her voice. 

“We did it together.”

\------

She thought of telling Zuko first. Obviously she thought of telling Zuko. But she and Zuko lived in the same palace, and they saw each other every day. There would be time for that later. 

Sokka, then. He might have been too entangled in his own family responsibilities to be as involved in the Tribe’s politics as Katara was, but still. This wasn’t just politics. This was a family matter. 

“Sokka!” 

“Hey,” he lightly laughed into the receiver, probably taken aback by the surprise phone call. 

“We did it!” 

“We did… it…?” 

“The tribe! It’s free! We’re free.”

“What? But what about Chief Arnook? And the war? Are we going to war?” 

“He’s just… letting us go,” Katara breathed, still amazed herself. “Dad thinks Kuei backed out of their alliance. Not that we have any idea why,” she added. 

“Should we be worried about that?” Sokka ventured. 

“No! Maybe. Who cares! We’ll deal with it later, if it comes to that.”

He laughed again. It was nice to hear Sokka laughing. It wasn’t so long ago she’d been living with him, but she hadn’t exactly been in a joyful headspace back then. She missed him. She missed how things were between them when neither was embroiled in a crisis. 

“I’m proud of you, Katara,” he said, pulling Katara out of her private thoughts. 

“Me? This was Dad’s—” 

“I know. I’m proud of him too. But you were no small part of this. Remember that.” 

“Thanks, Sokka.” 

\-------

He didn’t really need to break the news to Suki because she’d been sitting across from him when Katara called, listening to their conversation. Sokka’s half of it, anyway. 

“Congratulations, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe.” 

“Oh, stop,” he chuckled. 

“No really. This is...” she paused, searching for the right word, “historic.” 

“It is, isn’t it? We made history.” 

It’s not like Sokka hadn’t known it was a big deal. Clearly he did, it’s just, well, he’d never thought about it like that before. The independence movement to him was always something his dad talked about, in relation to the rest of his work. It was something about which Katara had strong opinions, but that hardly made it unique. Katara had strong opinions about what to eat for dinner. 

What would the world look like now? The world already looked so different than it had only a year ago. The Fire Nation had open borders. There were two Water Tribes. He’d lead one of them one day. That day was far off, and, since it necessitated his father’s death, most of the time he preferred not to think about it. But it would come, eventually, and when it did his people would need him. There would be no northern tribe to fall back on. He hoped he was qualified. He had to be; there was no one else, after all. 

A gentle smile from Suki brought him back to Earth. 

“Anything you’d like to share?” 

“Just thinking about home.” 

“Yeah? Fond memories?” 

“No, more like the future.” 

“Ah.” Understanding flashed across her features. “You’ll be ready.” 

“What if I’m not?” 

“You will be.” 

“Sometimes I wish there was someone else who could step up to that challenge for me…” 

“Well there is,” Suki said, matter-of-fact. 

His father had another oldest child? This was news to Sokka. 

“There is?” 

“Yes. There’s me.” 

“Hon, you can’t—” 

Suki interrupted, “And Katara.” 

“Neither of you are—” 

“In line for the Chiefdom? Maybe we can’t step up  _ for  _ you, but we can step up with you. Lean on us. It’s what family is for. One day our kids will be older, and you can lean on them too.” 

The kids in question were, at the moment, finger painting each other instead of their canvases. Arluk definitely had some of it in his mouth. Good thing it was non-toxic. 

“You’re right,” he relented. 

She placed a hand on his knee. “I usually am.” 

\-------

_ Fire Lord Zuko, _

_ I’m certain you’ve heard the big news by now. I look forward to the alliance between our two nations that this turn of events has forged.  _

_ Regards,  _

_ Prime Minister Kuei _

What? Since when was there an alliance between Kuei and himself? Zuko read the letter again, just to be certain he hadn’t hallucinated the details. 

This was so typical of Kuei. The letter was terse, impersonal, and almost entirely devoid of useful information. What little it did contain turned Zuko’s world upside down. Again. With how many times Zuko’s world had been turned upside down, it might be right side up by now. 

What happened to Arnook? Zuko had been under the impression that Kuei was allied with  _ him.  _ Kuei must’ve been playing both sides all along, which, in retrospect, really shouldn’t have been surprising. Avoiding war at all costs must’ve been Kuei’s priority. Zuko couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved, but the implications about the Southern Water Tribe soured his reaction. Was Hakoda’s little tribe of hard working, honest people just not worth fighting for? Zuko would have fought for it. He wouldn’t have to now, but he would have, if the occasion had presented itself. 

Zuko supposed he should have been suspicious, but truly, he was growing tired of being suspicious all the time. Good fortune didn’t just fall into his lap. It never had, and he refused to believe that it would start today. Something about this alliance was wrong, and only time would tell exactly what. 

He started when his office door was thrown open. Most people in his life would have knocked first. All except for one. 

“You’re not going to believe it!” Katara shouted, even though it was only the two of them, and they were only feet apart. Her cheeks were rosy, and a strand of her hair lay plastered to her temple. She looked like she ran here all the way from the East Wing. Still she looked elated. Her breathlessness couldn’t steal the broad smile from her face. 

Zuko could believe it, actually, if she was going to say what he thought she was. And he was considerably less excited about it. 

“Actually, I think I can guess.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got me nostalgic for Katara and Sokka's past. I really should've posted something like this around chapter 5, when Hakoda alludes to their upbringing in the Earth Kingdom, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/keysmashjones/art/Siblings-Water-Tribe-846663484
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/keysmashjones/art/Portrait-of-Sokka-846663638


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you thought I forgot about Azula? Not a chance. 
> 
> CW: More mental illness, references to violence (basically all chapters with Azula will have the same or similar warnings)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand I drew even more stuff. Ruomei, this time. 
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/keysmashjones/art/Ruomei-Tan-Attorney-at-Law-847451103?ga_submit_new=10%3A1593713710

Azula had a date. As of her last hearing, that is. The trial itself, as well as pretrial conferences and further motion hearings, were all scheduled on her most recent appearance in court. That meant Ruomei had to work quickly. That was fine, Ruomei was accustomed to working under time constraints. In fact, she thrived in those conditions, but her client in this particular case would do just about anything, unintentional or otherwise, to undermine her efforts.

Azula was still refusing to cooperate. The idea of testifying against her father was just as repugnant, apparently, as it had been on the day Ruomei first suggested it. Since then, their meetings had been unproductive and difficult. Azula refused to disclose any information that might benefit her in court, but Ruomei heard multiple times about all of the ways Azula would torture and disembowel her, given the chance. Ruomei had to admit she was creative.

Creativity wouldn’t be very useful if she received a death sentence. Ruomei was a good lawyer, a damned good one, but she could only do so much with a client like Azula. She was a detriment to her own cause.

“You have a trial date now. You need to start taking this seriously,” she told Azula, though she might as well have been addressing a brick wall.

“Nobody takes me seriously when I demand to be released. Or when I demand to see my father. Or when I demand better food. Why should I extend those people any courtesy?”

“You’re not in a position to make demands. ‘Those people’ have the power to take your life.”

Ruomei had never encountered a client with such a bafflingly flawed understanding of the justice system. At first she assumed it was because of where Azula was from. Growing up a princess in a fascist dictatorship probably didn’t allow her many opportunities to cultivate street smarts. However, as time passed, it became clear that Azula’s inability to grasp the reality of her situation stemmed from a deeper problem. It wasn’t her country, or her upbringing, it was just… her. Azula had a few screws loose, and it showed. The more time she spent incarcerated, the more glaringly obvious it became.

“This isn’t a joke. They’ll kill you,” Ruomei pleaded.

“I’ll kill YOU!”

_ Give me a break. _

Ruomei garnered a good deal of criticism for taking Azula’s case. The day after the announcement was made, a group of protestors had gathered outside her office. They brandished signs fashioned from paint and poster board. The signs read “There’s no defending murder” or “No mercy for the Fire Nation” and other phrases equally as generalized and underresearched. These protestors didn’t know the first detail about Azula’s case, and they certainly didn’t know anything about Ruomei’s decision to take it up. She donned her sunglasses, tucked her briefcase under her arm, and shoved past the throng of people. They bombarded her with insults and questions as she passed, but she paid them no mind.

The truth was that this case had the power to make her career. Was Princess Azula a terrible person who had most likely committed most, if not all, of the heinous crimes she’s been charged with? Probably. But she needed savvy counsel, and taking on that responsibility would guarantee that the name Ruomei Tan would be remembered for generations.

Ruomei wasn’t married. She didn’t have kids. She had no intention of changing that, despite her relatives’ incessant prodding at family gatherings. She didn’t need a family, and even though she invented a rainbow of excuses when nosy acquaintances demanded an explanation for her barren womb (as if it was any of their business) the truth is that she just didn’t want one. Besides, her apartment was a good deal cleaner and quieter sans children. Her lifestyle was a matter on which she took cues from her parents, or rather, she held them aloft as examples of what not to do. She came from a family of six, and she had been the only girl. Even worse, she had been a middle child. When she left the house for college, she made a point to never return. It’s not that she didn’t love her family, she did, but they were more easily stomached in moderation. And she had a greater calling.

That’s what led her to make regular trips to a maximum-security prison in the middle of rural nowhere, face to face with the former crown princess of the Fire Nation. She knew this case wouldn’t be easy. If it had, she wouldn’t have been virtually the only volunteer. And she knew her reputation would take a hit, especially before she actually won the case (and she would win. Failure was not an option). But the extent of Azula’s cognitive challenges was even beyond anything Ruomei foresaw. She was stubborn, capricious, and sometimes, just depressing in how wildly out of touch she was, but Ruomei hadn’t given up yet. She could crack Azula. She could crack anyone. She just needed a fresh approach. 

She bought a newspaper. A real one. A bona fide, paper and ink, physical newspaper. Who even does that anymore? She did, apparently, but only because she was desperate, and she couldn’t bring her tablet into Azula’s cell. She’d tried popping into various coffee shops along her commute the day before to see if any of them would happen to sell what she was looking for, and when they didn’t, she’d had to ask around to see where to even purchase a good old fashioned newspaper. A quaint family diner, apparently. She bought a drip coffee, too, when the waitress glared at her mistrustfully. It was no skinny macchiato, but it would have to do. All in all, the process carved about an hour out of her normal routine. She only hoped it’d be worth it.

When she arrived, Azula was ignoring her. That was to be expected. At least she wasn’t having an outburst like she had the previous day, but then again, you could never tell when Azula was on the brink of an episode.

“You can give me the silent treatment if you like, Princess. I’ve got all day,” Ruomei gibbed, leaning back in her chair and taking a long sip of her coffee. She contorted her face to create the illusion that it tasted better than it actually did.

Azula, predictably, did nothing. She hadn’t even taken her seat across the table. She sat cross-legged in the back of her cell, facing away from the door, and therefore away from Ruomei.

She looked like she was meditating. Ruomei had read somewhere that meditation was an important part of learning to control fire, and therefore carried a lot of cultural significance in the Fire Nation. Breathing was supposed to be important, too, but she couldn’t hear Azula’s breathing. She was as silent and unmoving as the concrete walls that encased her. 

Was Azula actually meditating, or was this just another of her games? The latter, probably. For all Ruomei knew, Azula didn’t even have the attention span to meditate. Not in her current condition.

Ruomei released a loud, dramatic sigh and theatrically unfolded the newspaper. The large sheets of paper audibly crinkled in the otherwise quiet room.

“All day…” Ruomei carried on, not looking up from the paper. She did her best to look engrossed in the material, and not at all like she’d surveyed it beforehand.

Still nothing.

“Got my coffee,” Ruomei taunted, taking a swig, “and my paper,” she rustled the pages again, “and I could sit here for  _ hours.” _

“And you think I couldn’t?” Azula spat, whirling her head around suddenly. The rest of her body remained still. “I’m the one being held captive here. I could sit here even longer than you.”

_ Very good. She’s intrigued. _

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” Ruomei conceded, flipping a page with practiced nonchalance. “But it’s also true that this will be a better time for both of us if we actually talk to each other. Why don’t you come sit by me? We don’t have to talk about your trial if you don’t want to. For all I care, you can just watch me read my newspaper. Better than doing nothing, isn’t it?”

Azula turned her head again, and then tried to pretend she hadn’t.

“I don’t need to be entertained. I’m not a restless child.”

“Suit yourself.” Another sip of coffee. Another page turned.

Ruomei remained deathly still. Azula was like a wild animal sometimes: easily spooked, highly unpredictable, and only cooperative if she perceived it to have been her idea.

Sure enough, Azula rose from the floor and cautiously took a seat moments later.

“If it’ll get you out of here sooner, I’ll sit at your stupid table,” snarled Azula venomously.

_ Gotcha. _

“Okay,” Ruomei shrugged, half-reading an article on the Ba Sing Se Badgermoles’ latest victory at the playoffs. Azula, with nowhere else to look, scanned the back of the newspaper.

“I don’t know why you read that trash,” she remarked. “Father always tells me that the people who write it are pathetic liars with too much time on their hands.”

“Yeah, probably. But I like the comics.”

Azula paused. Clearly she’d encountered something she was struggling to make sense of.

“Like… like that,” she elaborated, pointing to the back of the paper. “That article about my brother. It’s all filthy lies. They just want attention.”

Ruomei angled the paper in such a way that she could view the backside. She feigned surprise at what she saw.

“Oh, that? The headline is true, at least. I don’t know about the rest of it.” She flicked the pages back to where she’d been before Azula’s interruption.

“No it’s not,” Azula insisted. “Why would my brother make an alliance with the Earth Kingdom? He hates the Earth Kingdom. The Earth Kingdom did this to me. To our family.”

Ruomei raised a condescending eyebrow at her, knowing full well she’d be enraged by it.

“Well, for some reason or another, he did. Everyone’s been talking about it.”

“Well everyone’s wrong!” Azula screeched. She wasn’t quite having an outburst, not yet. Ruomei let her simmer down for a bit before speaking again.

“Your brother doesn’t have much of a backbone, does he?” She suggested, like the idea had just occurred to her.

Azula crossed her arms. “He’s always been weak. He’s a coward.”

“He’d have to be, in order to make a deal like that. Our prime minister says jump, your brother says how high.”

She let Azula chew on that for a while.

“So it’s really true then? He made an alliance with your wretched country?” Azula asked. She always peppered her commentary with even more insults than usual when she felt unsure of herself. Ruomei smiled inwardly.

_ It’s working… _

“Yep. You’d never have caved into our prime minister’s demands, I’m sure.”

Azula was affronted. “Of course not! I’m not some, some, yellow-bellied weasel snake like he is!”

Ruomei finally lowered the paper. She looked right into Azula’s caramel-colored eyes. “It sucks, doesn’t it? Watching your fuckup of a brother mishandle the throne when you’re stuck in here, unable to do a thing about it?”

Azula narrowed her eyes.

“…You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

_ Damn it. _ She’d pushed too hard too quickly. She held up her hands in a defensive gesture.

“Hey, I don’t claim to know the first thing about your family and your nation. I just know that if I had to watch one of  _ my _ idiot brothers screw up  _ my  _ dream job, I’d be pretty angry about it.”

Azula contemplated that.

“You think I could do a better job on the throne, then?”

Ruomei pretended to consider it. “It depends on what you consider ‘better’… I am from the Earth Kingdom, after all, and your people have a history of being at odds with mine… but I know you’d never let yourself become my country’s puppet. You’re far too strong for that.”

Azula liked to sort things into categories of strength and weakness. Maybe Ruomei could exploit her lexicon.

Azula seemed pleased.

“You’re right. I am.”

“Hmm,” Ruomei folded up the paper and shoved it back into her bag. Then she leaned forward and flashed a conspiratorial smirk. “You know, maybe there is a way that you could take the throne back from your brother.”

_ That _ caught Azula’s attention.

“Really? How?”

“You’d need to get out of here first, obviously.”

Azula frowned. “I already told you. I’m not going to spew a bunch of falsehoods about my father on the pulpit.”

“So it’s a witness stand, not a pulpit, it’s not a religious temple… anyway. No one said you had to. I mean, the judge, the jury… they’re not nearly as smart as they think they are. Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but they’re actually pretty stupid. You give them a sob story, you tell them what they want to hear, and bam!” She snapped her manicured fingers, “you’ve got them right where you want them.”

“…Is that so?”

“It is. Now, your average criminal won’t get very far. But someone like you, someone clever and sophisticated, you could have them eating out of your palm if you wanted.” 

“By telling lies about my father?” Azula growled.

“No. Well yes, technically. But come on, Princess. You don’t actually have to believe what you’re saying. You can trick them, get out of here alive, then go steal the throne from your brother and put them all in their places. It’s just a means to an end. You wouldn’t actually be betraying anyone. Your father would understand that, wouldn’t he?”

“Hmm… father would want me to get out of this place by any means necessary. But I thought you said I’d be sworn to tell the truth.”

Ruomei cackled. She didn’t even have to fake it.

“I’m supposed to believe that you have any respect whatsoever for our justice system?”

Azula smirked. She looked startlingly lucid.

“You got me there.”

_ Alright _ , Ruomei thought,  _ Now we’re getting somewhere. _


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mai has had enough. 
> 
> CW: Mental illness, physical signs of neglect

“What should we do today, Azula?” Asked Ty Lee cheerily. She posed the question almost daily after their lessons concluded, and always to Azula only. Azula would never give that power to anyone else. 

Azula wasn’t looking at either of them. Instead, her gaze was fixed on a cherry blossom tree across the courtyard. Mai followed her line of vision to see if there was anything interesting about the tree. There wasn’t. That could only mean Azula was concentrating inwards, plotting.

“I was thinking we might pay a visit to my dear brother today,” she declared, and then added, “he’s ever so lonely, you know.”

Internally, Mai winced. She knew very well how lonely Zuko had been ever since his disgrace. Typically she tried not to think about it, but Azula wouldn’t allow that on this particular day.

Zuko had been part of their group, once. It was only when they were children, of course, and he was never  _ really _ part of it. He was more like a strange, awkward satellite of Azula. Mai had enjoyed his company nevertheless. She found his odd manner endearing. It was a pleasant dynamic until Azula learned that Mai was developing the beginnings of a crush on him. Azula had a way of obliterating all things pleasant.

“I would like that,” Mai replied dutifully. She had to cushion what she was about to say next. “We could also go down to the plaza, and see how many oranges we can steal from the street vendors under our jackets. We could visit Zuko another day.”

Her blunder became apparent before she was even finished talking. Azula’s expression soured gradually as Mai’s statement carried on. By the end of it, Azula had fixed Mai with an impressive glower. Mai did her best to sound indifferent under Azula’s scrutiny.

“We’re visiting Zuko today. We can do those other things some other time.” Her Highness had spoken.

“C’mon Mai, I thought you’d want to see Zuko! You always liked him,” Ty Lee gushed. “Oh! Can we change out of our uniforms first?”

Azula pretended to consider it.

“No. I think Zuzu will like it if we wear our uniforms,” she asserted.

“But…” Mai could see the wheels turning in Ty Lee’s pretty head. “What if our uniforms make him sad? Won’t that just remind him that he doesn’t get to go to school anymore?”

“Oh, no. In fact, I think he’ll want to hear all about how school is going. We should tell him everything there is to know,” Azula insisted. She wore an unctuous smirk on her painted lips.

“But—” Ty Lee protested. Azula tolerated protest very poorly.

“Enough!” Azula snapped. “We’re going to see Zuko and we’re going to tell him all about school and that’s final.” When neither Mai nor Ty Lee moved from their places, she demanded, “Right now!”

Zuko’s chambers were virtually unchanged from how they were when they were children. His bedroom and the hall leading up to it even smelled the same. It should have been comforting, maybe, but instead it struck Mai with melancholy. It felt stale.

“Hi Zuzu,” Azula purred.

“Azula! What are you doing he—”

Azula pushed past him. Mai and Ty Lee filed in behind her like turtle ducklings trailing behind their mother.

“We thought you could use some company, that’s all. Surely you’re happy to get a visit from your baby sister?”

Before he could reply, Ty Lee interjected.

“We’ve all missed you so much! I bet you get really lonely in here since you can’t go to school and all that. I know I would go crazy if I were stuck in my bedroom by myself everyday.”

Zuko hovered by the still-open door uncomfortably. “Er, yeah. It’s… not great,” he managed.

“I would ask you how you are, but we already know, since nothing is happening in your life. So we’ll tell you about ours instead,” Azula proclaimed, inspecting her dainty hands. She then launched into a story about her firebending practice. Recently she’d been moved up a level. She now had to train with a private coach, as she’d surpassed all of the instructors the academy had to offer. Fire Lord Ozai had been repeating the story to everyone he encountered, as had Azula. Ty Lee cut in from time to time, mostly to sing Azula’s praises.

Zuko kept his eyes on Mai even though she was the only one who hadn’t spoken.

“…Isn’t that right, Mai?”

Oh no. She hadn’t been listening. Fortunately, she knew that Azula was almost always seeking affirmation.

“Um, yes. That’s right.” Her voice came out hoarsely from disuse.

Azula nodded, seemingly satisfied, but then she added, “So why don’t you tell him about it?”

Azula was going to crucify her. “Tell him about…”

“I always knew you were good at throwing knives. I’m not even surprised that you’re the best in our age group,” Zuko prompted. Thank Agni for Zuko.

Mai thanked him with furtive eye contact. She then recited the tale obediently.

“Oh, don’t tell it like that!” Azula interrupted. She tossed her shiny hair over one shoulder. “It was a  _ big  _ deal, Mai. You deserve to brag on yourself a bit.”

Mai shrugged. “I’m just telling it how it happened.”

Azula scoffed. She turned her attention to Zuko. “She’s being humble. It was a big deal. Everyone who’s anyone in the Caldera was there.”

“Except Zuko!” Ty Lee supplied helpfully. As if he couldn’t do the math himself.

Azula rolled her eyes. “I said everyone who’s anyone, Ty Lee. That means no disgraced princes.”

“Right…” She sank in her chair. When Azula was once again distracted, she dared to steal a sheepish look at Zuko.

Zuko cleared his throat. “It’s nice to hear that you’re all doing so well…”

Unfortunately, it was true. They were doing well. They all made top marks in school and cultivated refined hobbies. Their futures were bright and bountiful. They were the pinnacle of Calderan young women. She just wished it didn’t have to feel like they were succeeding at Zuko’s expense. That was stupid, and she knew it. Their achievements had nothing to do with his failures. Except, Zuko didn’t have any failures, she reminded herself. Zuko didn’t have anything.

She truly couldn’t imagine being him. Seventeen with no future, no friends, no life… She swallowed the urge to cry.

When Azula grew bored of him, they made their excuses and left.

“That was… actually really sad,” Mai heard Ty Lee whisper on the way out.

“I know right? He’s so pathetic,” Azula replied, voice overflowing with mock sympathy, but her face betrayed her delight.

Mai couldn’t take it anymore. She turned on her heel and strode down the hall in the opposite direction. She heard Ty Lee calling her as she rounded the corner.

She was just barely within earshot when she heard Azula say, “Let her go. She just feels bad for him.”

\-------

That had been over a decade ago. Azula had been right; Mai had felt bad for Zuko back then, but she didn’t any longer. She felt bad for Azula, maybe. Azula’s mental illness seemed to suggest she had never been completely in control of herself, and it was getting worse. Then again, Azula was cruel. She had been as long as Mai had known her, and her psychological state was no excuse for it. But to be up against a death sentence…

She did  _ not _ feel bad for Zuko. She wasted years feeling bad for him. She used to wonder how his life might have been different, how both their lives might have been different, if he’d simply kept his mouth shut in that war meeting that fateful day. Even once he’d been placed on the throne, she still felt lingering pity for him. He’d been so unprepared and so frightened. He never wanted to be fire lord. As long ago as when they were children he never craved power for its own sake like Azula did. He’d talk about ascending to the throne, sometimes, but he considered it to be a duty. If anything, he revealed his terror about screwing it all up. He wanted to be a good leader. An honorable one. He wanted to make his father and his country proud. It was never a matter of ego for him.

_ What happened? _ She wanted to ask him. She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him as hard as she could and demand,  _ Did you forget?  _ He never talked about honor and duty anymore, not that Mai had heard. He still didn’t strike her as a despot, but he seemed to have cast aside everything that used to matter to him. Give him a crown to wear, put him on a private jet and tell him he can explore the world, give him a girlfriend who’ll teach him all about democracy and the free press, and he’ll forget himself. He’ll forget everything that truly matters.

Mai felt bad for herself, she decided. It was self-pity, yes, but she was hardly wallowing in it. She processed it as a fact, a cold, immutable, iron truth that she had the burden of lugging around everywhere she went. She wouldn’t cry about it, or get angry. She wouldn’t retreat to her bedroom in a depressive stupor and turn it over and over in her mind until she couldn’t bear it any longer. She’d accept it and move on. It just was. Everyone had to live with conditions they’d rather not, and this was hers.

That didn’t mean she didn’t think about it. She owed it to herself to at least understand what it was and why it was happening, she insisted, and it wasn’t hard to figure out. It all came down to a particularly drama-prone pair of royal siblings and the fact that she’d spent nearly her entire life wedged in between them. Mai stuck her neck out for Zuko. She was powerless to stop the Agni Kai, or his subsequent disgrace, but she always did what she could to soften the blows of Azula’s taunting. She had also dutifully played her role as Azula’s perfect friend-servant. She deferred, followed orders, and never toed out of line. They were so at odds with each other, like magnets with the same polarity, pushing each other away and fundamentally unable to meet peaceably, and yet somehow, Mai had managed to be their bridge. She’d been unfailingly loyal to both of them, even when it felt like she was ripping herself in two, and this was the thanks she got?

Zuko had power now. Real power. He’d demonstrated that when he told Prime Minister Kuei to go suck it with his Water Tribe alliance. Even more astonishing was that Kuei accepted it. Zuko might not be entirely free, but this was the most leverage he’d ever had in his life. And still he’d left his sister to die in prison, even after Mai had given him a chance to intervene. 

It wouldn’t be fair to say that Mai liked Azula. She didn’t, exactly, and even then, it had never really mattered if Mai liked her or not. But at least Azula hadn’t committed such a flagrant betrayal. She had reservations about supporting Azula, but she absolutely could not support Zuko. Not anymore. She’d finally taken a side.

Besides, Azula needed her. Not her specifically, Mai supposed, but she needed someone to help her through this trial. Azula was always too proud to ask for help, and so it was Mai’s job to anticipate it and be there.

That’s what she was doing, she thought, but Azula’s first remark upon seeing her was more than she’d expected.

“You’re not real.”

Mai’s mind raced. She’d never had to defend her existence before.

“Yes I am. I’m real and I’m here.”

She pressed her hand against the wired glass and spoke as clearly as she could into the phone’s mouthpiece. How does a person speak when they’re attempting to affirm their realness? Firmly, Mai guessed. It was one of those old fashioned phones, the kind shaped like a flat, elongated “U” with a cord attached. Except, the cord of this phone didn’t extend into the endless network of telephone lines that connected callers with whomever they fancied around the world. This phone only connected to its mirror image held by Azula, behind the glass.

She looked bad. That was too gentle of an assessment, perhaps. Rather than let her untrimmed hair hang lank and matted around her shoulders, it appeared that she was still attempting to bully it into its usual topknot. That was sadder, somehow, than if she’d just done nothing at all. It was such a poor approximation of who she used to be, a grotesque reminder of her former life. It was greasy, and stood up in places it wasn’t meant to. She hadn’t even captured it all in the hair band. The stray pieces tangled at the base of her neck.

It wasn’t just her hair. She’d lost weight, that much was obvious. Her cheekbones jutted from her face, making her eyes look dimmer and further away. The sinews in her neck protruded. Her fingernails were yellowish and ribbed, and tapered off in jagged ends, like she’d been chewing them. Her baggy orange uniform hung off her body as if it hung on a clothes hanger. She looked like she hadn’t been sleeping well. It took Mai a single glance at their surroundings to guess why. She couldn’t blame her.

“If you’re real, then explain what you’re doing here,” Azula demanded. Mai struggled to understand. Would a figment of her imagination not be able to produce a valid reason for visiting?

“I’m here to see you, of course.”

Azula laughed, a shrill, awful noise.

“You’re not real. My real friends abandoned me. They would never come to visit.”

Mai felt suddenly wracked with guilt. It was not a small feat that the emotion had overpowered her concern.

“I… Listen, I should’ve come sooner. I know that. I’m sorry. But I assure you I am real and I’m here now. I won’t abandon you again,” Mai beseeched.

Azula watched her. She said nothing, she just watched.

“I’m real. Azula, please? I haven’t been there for you but I’m trying now. Please let me try,” urged Mai.

“And why would I need you to be there for me?” Azula snapped. She was all too loud, like she’d forgotten how to speak at a normal conversational volume.

Mai lifted the receiver a few centimeters from her ear, and then replaced it when Azula had finished.

Azula was fragile, and Mai wasn’t sure how much she knew. She would have to tread lightly.

“Well, you have this trial coming up…”

“So I’ve been told!” Azula interjected. She attempted to exude a confident, self-possessed energy, but in her current state it just looked demented. 

“…Right. Well, I just think it could be difficult for you, and so I want you to know I’m here to support you.”

“I don’t need your support, and I’m not worried about my trial,” Azula barked, then softened ever so slightly. “But, I suppose it will be nice to have a friend around. One who’s real.”

Mai gave her an encouraging smile. When she left the prison, she left infinitely more anxious than she’d been coming in.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victory is... a lot of work?

“You’ll call me when you land, right?”

The trunk popped open and Sokka grunted, dragging his suitcase out the back and letting it land on the ground with a loud thud. He popped the handle up and into place and leaned on it, throwing her a quick smile, “You got it. I’ll be back before you know it,” 

“Alright. Give your dad my best,” Suki closed the trunk door. 

She gave him a hug and kissed him goodbye. After a wave to the boys in the backseat, he pulled his bags through the automatic doors and into the airport, and turned a corner out of view. Getting back into the car, she checked on the three boys in the backseat, made sure their buckles were still in place, and drove off. With Sokka out of sight, she exhaled, letting her face reflect the exhaustion she was feeling. 

The drive was quiet. The sun had just barely begun to peak over the horizon. This time of the morning was too early for traffic, which was just one part of why she had insisted on the early flight. It was cheaper and it gave her enough time to drop Sokka off at the airport, the boys off at the sitter, and still make it to work on time. She glanced back at the toddlers, all of whom were still sleeping. Thank the spirits.

Despite the serene surroundings, Suki felt restless. She couldn’t help but feel abandoned by Sokka’s spur of the moment vacation. Sokka had run the idea of going out to the tribes by her a couple of days back. The plan was to help Hakoda iron out the details of transitioning the tribe into statehood, he had told her. It made sense, she admitted, and she had taken a long hard look at her schedule to try and make room for the trip. The reality of it was that she just couldn’t find the time to get off to go. Running the Kyoshi Warriors meant that she had to work long hard hours and her days off were few and far between. She normally had no problem accepting that reality. She knew from a young age that she would inherit the company from her parents. Not long after she graduated college, her mother had announced her retirement, and passed the baton down to her. She had Sokka to thank for making her work hours a possibility while raising three young kids. Suki could spend the day in the office and rest easy knowing that Sokka had the boys handled back at home. Their system was surprisingly functional. Most of the time.

She had explained her work situation to him and admitted that she couldn’t go, hoping he would understand. He did, he told her he did, but he also stood by the argument that he needed to go anyway. He asked her to stay, work, and watch the boys. Without blinking, she agreed. It was only fair.

She couldn’t blame him for wanting to go. Of course she couldn’t. Beyond wanting to help his dad, he had an obligation to the tribe that he had to uphold. The chiefdom, as it stood, was still an inherited role and as Hakoda’s oldest, it was on him to pick up the weight once Hakoda was gone. Should nothing else change, he was set to be the Chief someday. It was a ticking time bomb that the two of them maneuvered around silently. Sokka didn’t want to think about it and how on earth was Suki supposed to bring it up? Discussions of it mandated talking about Hakoda’s eventual demise, a thought that neither of them cared to dwell on particularly. 

Years ago, when the two of them got married, she knew full and well what would happen someday. Sokka would have to eventually relocate to the Southern Water Tribe in order to lead it. If there was to be any chance of keeping their relationship, she would have to go with him. Since then, she started brainstorming ways to take her job offshore rather than come to terms with her probable resignation. On the surface it sounded so unfeminist, didn’t it? She was a career woman, born of a line of strong career women, and yet she married a man with a lifestyle that she knew would ultimately require her imminent resignation. She justified it, no doubt. Sokka had–without complaint– taken up the job of stay-at-home father for the boys through their infancy. It was only fair. 

Suki didn’t even understand fully what jobs she herself would have to take on when the time came. There wasn’t a current role for the spouse of the chief because of what happened to Kya. She had no blueprint to go off of. Even if there was one, Suki wasn’t from the SWT and she certainly didn’t look the part. Of course, she didn’t want to just lounge about while Sokka worked but she also knew that it wasn’t her place to demand a spot at the table of a culture that wasn’t her own. She would follow the tribe’s guidance when the time came, she supposed. It was only fair. 

Even more pressing was what that would mean for the boys. She hoped that by the time their grandfather passed on, the three of them would be at the very least securely through high school. The reality of the situation was that Ba Sing Se had superior educational opportunities so there was no option but to let them finish school here. She knew how hard that was for Sokka to be away from his father and hoped that she wouldn’t have to put their boys through that. Hakoda was healthy enough. She imagined that even if it happened when they were adults, they still would want to stay in the Ba Sing Se most likely, where the job opportunities and their friends are. It would only make sense for all of them to stay. Except Kaskae, she corrected. As the oldest of the trio by mere minutes, Kaskae had a fate similar to Sokka’s. He was far too young to understand it now, but he would also become Chief someday. Suki hoped she could protect him from the pressure that came with that knowledge for a long time to come.

The tribe’s recent victory was a bittersweet moment. It was a day that they had all prayed would come. It meant freedom for the tribe.The ability to be self-sufficient; to work for their own self interest, not some offshore, larger, sister tribe. With Hakoda at the helm, the tribe had a long and bright future ahead of them. Still, Suki couldn’t avoid the nagging voice in her head that knew that this was the death knell for her future in the Earth Kingdom. Before, when the role of Chief was more decorative than something with actual power, she could fantasize about commuting in between nations regularly. That chance dissolved the moment the SWT constitution was signed into law. Sokka’s future responsibilities increased ten-fold. Which is why this trip he was taking bothered her so much. It felt like the beginning of Sokka getting pulled into the Water Tribe more and more. It reminded Suki that their life in the Earth Kingdom was going to be short lived. 

People needed Sokka. It was only fair. 

...But so did his family. Ba Sing Se was Suki’s home. It was Wei, Arluk, and Kaskae’s home. Even if Sokka didn’t want to admit it, it was his home too. 

She had tried to go about her day as normally as possible and ignore the thoughts swimming around in her head. It didn’t feel like much time had passed between when she had dropped off the boys and when she had to pick them back up again after work. Before she knew it, it was late into the night and the trio were fast asleep in the bed with her. With Sokka gone, she had made the exception that they could sleep in her bed for the night. She began to doze off but was interrupted by a call from Sokka. 

“Guess who landed safely?” He started. Hearing his voice already was helping her mood, admittedly. She could only imagine the stupid smile plastered on his face. 

”I wouldn’t have any clue. You got any hints?” she responded sarcastically. 

“Don’t know. Some hunk probably.” 

Suki snorted and responded with an unconvincing “uhhh-huh.” There was a pause. He followed up, his tone shifting, “I wish you were here.”

Sigh. “I know,” was all Suki could counter. 

“You know... thank you for being so cool about all of this. I know this isn’t how you had imagined your week going.” He sounded tired. 

“Well, you either.” 

She heard the airport loudspeaker announce a gate change. “You aren’t wrong,” he finally admitted, “At least I get to see my dad. And at least I have you.” 

“Yeah. You’re pretty lucky to have such a cool wife” She joked.

“Don’t I know it.” 

She laughed quietly, trying not to wake up the boys. “Well I love you.” 

“How could you not?”

“Shut up.” 

“I love you too.” 

The situation wasn’t fair. It was okay to admit that. It wasn’t fair to either of them. But at least they had each other. 


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara makes waves in the Fire Nation

  
The Fire Nation wasn’t a podcast. Katara was beginning to see that. She didn’t command mastery over it, like she had with her shows. She hadn’t been there when it started, and she couldn’t see where it was going to end. She couldn’t write a script and expect everyone else to follow. 

She’d been thrown curveballs before. She couldn’t control what interviewees said when they were invited to one of her shows. But well, that’s the operative word, isn’t it? They were  _ her _ shows. In the end it was her agenda that mattered. She decided how to frame the material she encountered. It was everyone else’s agenda to make her podcast a reality. 

No one in the Fire Nation, it seemed, had any such agenda. Katara had expected the other ministers to defer to Zuko. The Fire Nation was his podcast, so to speak. When Katara inquired about his governing style, he indicated that he’d tried to exert control, early on, but had since given up. He didn’t say it in those exact words, maybe to preserve his dignity, but the message was pretty clear. 

“She just doesn’t listen,” Zuko shrugged when Katara asked why Jian was allowed to sip on a fruity cocktail or two (or three) during their weekly meetings. The weekly meetings that were generally held at 8 A.M. “It doesn’t really matter that much anyway. She gets her work done.” 

Katara had little concept of what Jian’s work actually was. She felt like she ought to know, since they were both ministers of equal rank, and so she was too embarrassed to ask. Katara gathered from her comments that Jian spent most of her time drawing up schematics for mechanical inventions that may or may not ever come to fruition. It was also unclear if Zuko had asked her to invent these things, or if she’d taken the initiative all on her own. Katara suspected the latter. 

Yat-Sen didn’t do anything. Katara knew that for certain. He carried on just as he had under Ozai’s regime, and Ozai’s regime, as far as she could tell, had a policy of all play and no work for the high-ups. Yat-Sen didn’t even ask his subordinates to do his work for him; he simply expected it. On some occasions, he even outsourced his duties to people who weren’t his subordinates at all. 

One particular weekly update had concluded with Zuko asking everyone to create a budget summary of their respective departments, going back as far as the last quarter. Katara wasn’t even sure Yat-Sen had been awake enough to hear the order, that is, until she passed by him on her way out. 

“You, girl. Write up that report for me, will you? Have it on my desk before the weekend.” 

And then he hobbled past her, like it was no big deal. Katara had been horrified. Needless to say, she did  _ not _ write up the report. Someone did, apparently, because Yat-Sen presented it to Zuko the next week. Perhaps it had been Tomlin. The poor guy was always tying up other people’s loose ends. Katara didn’t know how much Tomlin was paid, but whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. 

The only other minister whose duties made any sense at all was Renshu. It wasn’t a coincidence that he was also the only other minister who seemed to take his duties seriously. Katara liked him, and took comfort in the fact that he was also extremely frustrated with nearly everyone else in the palace. 

She knew she needed to make friends (other than Zuko) in her new workplace, and so she decided to confide in Renshu some of the obstacles she’d encountered. She told him about the arrogant demand Yat-Sen had made. 

Renshu drew his mouth into a thin line. He looked troubled, but not the least bit surprised. 

“Yeah… he’s like that sometimes. Don’t take it personally. Ultimately it’s a reflection on him, not you.” 

“So he has a history then?” Katara ventured. 

“Yeah. I don’t even think he knows my real name. He just calls me ‘the sandbender.’” 

It was terrible, but Katara had to laugh at its absurdity. “But you’re not even a—,” 

Renshu held up his hands in a gesture of defense. “I know! I know. Try telling him that.” Still, he was smiling. 

“It’s something about the green eyes, I think. It freaks him out for whatever reason,” Renshu elaborated, when Katara didn’t reply beyond their shared chuckle. 

“I wonder if there’s a story there,” Katara pondered aloud. 

“Maybe. With the state of Fire Nation record-keeping, I don’t think we’ll ever know.”

Most days, Katara elected to sit next to Renshu. He knew what it meant to be an outsider in this foreign place, and Katara felt somehow safer by his side. It didn’t make any logical sense, she knew. Renshu couldn’t actually protect her from the thoughtless microaggressions and general Fire Nation incompetence she was encountering. Still, it felt nice to have an ally. 

She’d foolishly expected Zuko to be her ally. Don’t misunderstand; he wasn’t making her life harder. It’s just that he wasn’t really making it easier, either. In some ways she was grateful. She’d never live it down if Zuko showed her any favoritism. Nevertheless she was struck by how indifferently he treated her when they were on duty. He treated all his ministers indifferently, even Yat-Sen, who wasn't lucid most of the time. He allowed his ministers to run the show for him. He was more of an observer than anything. Occasionally he prodded the conversations towards or away from a given topic, but overall he spoke very little. He looked instead at his notes, with a distant sort of resignation in his eyes. He’d told Katara before that he hated his job, but she never experienced for herself how true that was until she joined his council. 

In the end, Katara was forced to conclude that she couldn’t make sense of the Fire Nation government because it just didn’t make any sense. She’d spent so much time fretting over whether her qualifications would measure up to the other ministers, whether they would view her as an equal, whether she was smart enough, good enough… She never considered that maybe she was overqualified. No one in the Fire Nation, not even Zuko, knew what an effective government looked like. Never in their lives had anyone living there experienced a government that treated everyone fairly and made good on its promises. No government in the world lived up to that, Katara supposed, but the Fire Nation was so far from that ideal that most people had given up on trying to attain it. They didn’t care about trying to do a good job because it just didn’t matter. Everything was decided for them. The Fire Nation would carry on, just as it had for the past hundred years, regardless of whether the fire lord’s ministers were competent or not. No one cared that Katara wanted to help people. No one cared that she held out hope for a brighter future. 

Katara would make them care, she decided. Just because they had lived under oppression for so long that they had forgotten what freedom looked like didn’t mean that Katara had. Zuko’s regime was a clean slate, and she intended to make the most of it. Everyone else would wake from their sleepy complacency once she began to make progress. She was sure of it. 

She identified some issues that she thought were important but easily fixable, and brought them up to Zuko. 

“Would you be open to changing the Fire Nation’s policy on contraceptive use?” She pried, on a day when he didn’t seem especially miserable. 

“Um, maybe. What’s the policy?” He looked up from the papers on his desk. Katara recognized the documents as pertaining to Azula’s trial. On top of Zuko’s usual melancholy, he’d been preoccupied with everything related to Azula. The stress was making him petulant. 

Katara had rehearsed what she’d say if he offered resistance. She hadn’t expected this. 

She blinked at him. “It’s, um, illegal. There’s a complete ban on female contraceptive use. It’s an offense punishable by fine or even jail time.”

“Oh. Yeah, you should probably change that. I never knew…” 

_ He didn’t even know. _

So Katara drafted and enacted an amended policy, all on her own. She had Zuko’s permission, after all. What could anyone say? It just felt like it shouldn’t be so easy. A law like this would never pass at the hands of just one person in the Earth Kingdom, or even the Water Tribes. There would be meetings, votes, disagreements, and public opinion to get in her way. But here in the Fire Nation, she could just do it, so long as it wouldn’t incur the wrath of the fire lord. That was really all she needed to do anything, she realized. The Fire Nation had no semblance of checks and balances. If the fire lord approved, anyone could do anything. How could progress be so easy to make in a nation that hadn’t made any at all in the past century? 

She made other changes that hadn’t even crossed Zuko’s mind. Fire Nation citizens no longer had to select their haircuts from a limited, pre-approved list. They could start a news organization without explicit permission directly from the throne, and wouldn’t be persecuted for what they said there. They could access the internet beyond just the government’s narrow collection of sites that adhered to old-world Fire Nation values. They could leave the country without paperwork featuring the royal stamp of approval, and re-enter without any trouble too. 

When she envisioned her new job in her mind’s eye, she saw herself and Zuko as partners, ushering in a new era of peace and progress to the Fire Nation people together. Now it was becoming clear that while Zuko had good intentions, he just didn’t have the background to make Katara’s vision a reality. How could he? He’d been raised in a stifling dictatorship his entire life, so of course he didn’t know any other way, even if he was the dictator now, and not the one being stifled. She could teach him, and she intended to do exactly that, but the Fire Nation people couldn’t wait that long. In the meantime, it was up to her to do the difficult work that Zuko couldn’t. That would give him more time to let the drama surrounding Azula’s trial consume him anyway. 

Even the best partnership had moments like this, didn’t they? When both partners’ goals failed to align with each other? When one had ambitions that extended beyond the other’s? This was normal. Healthy, even. It would be weird if she and Zuko always thought exactly alike. They were different people, and they had to let each other be different people. Right now, the person Katara wanted to be was the one who brought democratic values to the Fire Nation. She would do it, too, even if Zuko had other ideas at the moment. 

She’d go to the trial with him. But she wouldn’t let it envelop her. She had no bearing on its outcome, and neither did Zuko, so it just made the most sense to focus on what she could control. Never before in her life did she have as much control as she did right now. She did not intend to waste it. 


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her father gone, Azula seeks approval from other sources. 
> 
> CW: the usual Azula stuff.

The jury was still out on whether Azula would follow the instructions they had agreed upon. The figurative jury, that is. The actual jury was still being selected, seated in the box, enduring voir dire from her opposing counsel. Jury selection was taking forever, which was unsurprising, but nevertheless irritating. Seemingly all of them had objections: tragic personal backstories that gave them cause to be biased for or against (let’s face it, just against) Azula’s case. Mr. So-and-so’s father had been slain by a Fire Nation soldier in a raid on the Northern Water Tribe decades ago. Mrs. Whatsherface was a retired Earth Army officer, and admitted to having killed Fire Nation military personnel herself. Dr. Way-too-overdressed-for-a-jury-trial was a professor who had devoted his entire life to studying air nomad culture, and insisted that he simply couldn’t erase the horrific details of the air nomad genocide from his mind when he listened to Azula’s defense. Monk Whatshisname  _ was _ an air nomad. Even the ones who didn’t have excuses eyed Azula suspiciously from their seats, like they were terrified she would erupt into a flaming rage at any moment. Having spent as much time with Azula as she had, Ruomei couldn’t assure them she wouldn’t.

Ruomei wanted to get on with opening statements already. Her face itched. Her throat felt dry. She had to make a conscious effort not to tap her foot against the floor compulsively. She hated feeling so nervous, so unsure of herself. And yet, she knew her nerves would be her fuel for this trial. She had an impressive track record, yes, but her previous victories meant nothing in this moment. The second she allowed herself to become arrogant would be the second she would let her guard down. Every legal trial was a personal trial of her own, and every time she had an obligation to fight as hard as she had when she was fresh out of law school. Azula needed her.

Azula had cleaned up for the trial, kind of. Her hair was less greasy and tangled than it had been, and she’d put on a fresh pair of scrubs. Her nails were a bit shorter, too, but still long enough to dig into the soft wood on the tabletop. Whether she was furious or fearful, Ruomei didn’t know.

Azula spied something from the corner of her eye and snapped her head around violently to face it, whatever it was. Ruomei reminded her gently to focus her attention ahead, but stole a glance at the gallery where Azula had been looking and understood her reaction at once. His royal majesty the fire lord had actually bothered to show up.

Zuko, accompanied by his new girlfriend, filed into the back pew as inconspicuously as he could. Even for someone whose scarred face had been regularly plastered all over every major news channel for the past few months, his best attempt at making an unobtrusive entrance was pretty pathetic. Ruomei had tried to prepare Azula for the very real possibility that her brother wouldn’t make it to the trial. He’d never visited her, and aside from that single brief conversation they shared, he’d never made any attempts to be a part of Azula’s criminal proceedings. Or her life, for that matter. Ruomei hadn’t much considered how to prepare Azula for the possibility that he  _ would _ make it.

Azula was visibly rattled by his presence, and so Ruomei did her best to temper her reaction. “Act like he’s not even here,” she cajoled. “Make him bear witness to your triumph.” Appealing to Azula’s sense of pride did the trick, apparently, and soon enough she was settled in her chair wearing her signature smug facial expression. Ruomei knew her well enough to know she still had her doubts.

A jury was chosen and finally Ruomei could make her opening. She knew her opening would be critical, even more important than in an ordinary trial. The jury was chosen to be as objective as possible, but even then, in a case like this one, Ruomei knew each one of them had already made up their minds about Azula. As far as they were concerned she was a criminal. The heartless second-in-command to her ruthless dictator father. She was the enemy.

Ruomei strode through the well, explaining to the jury that the prosecution would paint Azula as merciless, as bad as her father had been at his prime, on track to perpetuate the same human rights violations her father had committed when she eventually took his place on the throne. The prosecution would have everyone believe that to be the full story, she explained. The prosecution would never reveal that Azula herself was also a victim of Ozai’s cruel temperament, and it was because of his emotional manipulation that Azula had participated in the crimes that she had. She feared for her safety should she have resisted Ozai, Ruomei contended. Azula was not entirely innocent, she maintained, but neither was she purely a perpetrator, and she deserved a sentence that would acknowledge the hardship she’d endured.

Ruomei delivered the speech flawlessly, without a single um, uh, or stutter. She spoke cogently, precisely, and persuasively. This was as promising a start to Azula’s trial as she could have prayed for. The only issue troubling her still was how Azula had shifted and squirmed when Ruomei told the jury how Ozai had used her as a pawn in his game.  _ Come on Azula _ , Ruomei pleaded to her client wordlessly.  _ We talked about this. _

Witnesses were called, examined and dismissed. Azula sat through it all with a carefully unbothered face. Perhaps in her mind’s eye she looked like her former self: confident, cool, unshakable. Ruomei wanted to tell her to knock it off. A remorseful defendant didn’t smirk throughout her own trial. She needed to appear less like a psychopath, and this wasn’t helping.

The time came when Ruomei finally had the chance to cross-examine Azula on the witness stand.

“Princess Azula, you’ve told us quite a lot about the way your father ran his nation and waged his war, but I want to take a step back. I want to understand your upbringing. I want you to take the jury on a trip to the Fire Nation as you see it through your own eyes.”

Azula snorted. She had no patience for this kind of pomp.

“You’ve always been close with your father, have you not?”

“Always.”

“Your mother disappeared when you were young, is that correct?”

“I don’t know what happened to her!” Azula snapped. She crossed her arms defensively in front of her.  _ Damn it Azula, just answer the question. I’m not accusing you of making your mother disappear. _

“Princess, I’m just trying to verify the facts that underlie your childhood. Is it correct that your mother disappeared when you were a child?”

“Yes.”

“And your brother spent a large portion of his upbringing locked away from the public? Unable to participate in running the nation?”

“He was disgraced. He lost the right to participate when he spoke out of turn.”

‘Right. So it was essentially just you and your father for much of your upbringing. Is that a fair statement?”

“That’s fair.”

“Your father named you as his heir, even though your brother is older. Is that correct?”

“Like I said. Zuzu lost his rights. He has no honor.”

“So that’s correct?”

“Yes.”

“You love your father very much, is that right?” Ruomei was careful to say ‘love,’ present tense. She knew too well how Azula reacted when she was reminded of her father’s unfortunate demise.

“Of course I do. And he loves me.”

“Right. So is it fair to say that you’d go to great lengths to make your father happy?”

“Yes. I’d do anything for him.”

“Anything.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. So tell me how the Fire Nation was governed when your father ruled. Who was in charge of making important decisions?”

“He was. Obviously.” Azula rolled her eyes, ignoring all of Ruomei’s earlier requests that she appear patient and respectful.

“And once he made a decision, nobody had the authority to defy him, right?”

“Duh.”

“Princess, I need a yes or no for the record.”

Azula glared. “Yes,” she hissed.

“Did your father ever ask for your input before he made an important decision?”

“Oh yes. All the time. He was fire lord, and therefore omnipotent, but we ruled together. He trusts me.”

“He trusts you. Did you trust him?”

“Implicitly. I’d trust him with my life.”

“So it’s fair to say that you place a lot of value on your father’s opinion of you.”

“Yes.”

“Princess, did your father ever ask you to do anything that made you uncomfortable? Anything that you didn’t agree with?”

Azula didn’t reply. Her eyes were distant and unfocused. Her attention was focused on the war clearly being waged inside her head.

“Princess?”

“…No!” She shrieked, all too loud and all too sudden. “He’s a good father. A great father. He’s perfect. Everything I ever did for him I did because I wanted to, because he’s perfect, and because he did nothing wrong! I am so sick of you pathetic, disgusting people trying to pin your problems on him! Hasn’t he suffered enough? Haven’t  _ I _ suffered enough? Your country isn’t terrible because the Fire Nation made it that way. Your country is terrible because you people do everything backwards and blaming my father won’t save you. Leave him alone!”

Silence rang throughout the courtroom, interrupted only by the court reporter’s frantic clacking of keys.

_ She is so screwed _ .

From her seat on the bench, the judge made her voice heard. “Princess, the court would like to ask you a few questions before you step down.”

Behind her back, Ruomei dug her nails into her palm.

“And why should I talk to you? Why should I talk to any of you? You’re going to try and get me to spew lies about my father, don’t you think I know that? I’m not stupid, you know. I know what you all think of him. You want me to tell you that he’s evil, and that he manipulated me. You want me to say that he forced me to do things I didn’t want to do. But I won’t do it. I refuse to sully his good name in your stupid court! This whole spectacle is absurd and I won’t be part of it!”

_ She’s beyond screwed _ .

The judge remained calm.

“Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness?”

Azula scoffed. “I’m not crazy. I’m not slow either. Do I seem crazy to you? I’m not. If you think that, you’re wrong.”

The judge carried on.

“Have you ever undergone psychiatric evaluation?”

“Why would I? Crazy people need things like that. And I already told you I’m not crazy.”

“Princess, I’ve noticed you sometimes talk about your father in the present tense. Are you aware of what happened to him?”

“Everyone keeps telling me he’s dead, but I know it’s a lie. He’s the most powerful firebender I’ve ever seen, other than me, perhaps. You people couldn’t kill him. No one will tell me where he is, even though I’ve demanded it time and time again. You people have no respect.”

She spat at the judge. Ruomei felt like she watched it happen in slow motion. Azula’s face contorted, lips puckered, and before Ruomei could stop her, a glob of saliva hurdled through the air and landed on the bench with a moist splat.

Ruomei wanted to die. Nothing in law school, nor anything in all her subsequent years of practicing, had prepared her for this.

The judge, reacting instinctively to having projectiles lobbed in her direction, ducked beneath the bench. An officer materialized behind Azula in seconds and subdued her.

The judge ordered Azula to be escorted to a holding cell. When Azula was gone, Ruomei returned to her seat in a stupor. The case was as good as lost. She was vaguely aware of the judge’s voice, but her words couldn’t penetrate the fog clouding Ruomei’s thoughts.

“…the record reflecting that Defendant Azula has been escorted from the courtroom, the Court now orders the defendant to undergo a series of screens and evaluations to determine her competency to proceed. We’ll be in recess.” 

Ruomei was aware of people packing up and filing out of the courtroom around her.

Competency to proceed…? She knew Azula was crazy. It was hard not to. But she’s always seemed unfortunately competent when she talked about her war crimes. She’d freely admitted to having committed them, and opined intelligibly on why she’d done so. Between that and the public outrage against her, Ruomei had never imagined that an insanity plea would get her anywhere. Clearly she’d deeply underestimated the extent of Azula’s mental illness.

Ruomei packed her things, but she didn’t leave the courthouse. Instead, she followed an officer to Azula’s holding cell. She needed words with her client.

Red veins throbbed in Azula’s glassy eyes. Tears streamed down her hollow cheeks.

“They think I’m crazy.”

Ruomei didn’t know what to say. Azula shot her a mistrustful glare.

“I suppose you’ve come here to tell me what a terrible job I’ve done. You hate me, don’t you?”

Ruomei knelt down beside her. She extended a hand to Azula through the bars.

“No, Azula. I’m proud of you.”

“You are?” Her reaction was unnerving. The relief and joy she expressed was so overstated Ruomei thought it certainly had to be sarcastic. But it wasn’t.

“Yes. What you did out there today might very well be your salvation.”

The way Azula was looking at her, Ruomei may as well have been Fire Lord Ozai himself.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avatar Aang has entered the chat.
> 
> CW: This chapter deals heavily with the air nomad genocide.

One hundred years is a long time. Aang had a more tangible sense of that than most people alive on the planet today. Nevertheless, his childhood memories obediently flooded back to him when they were called upon, as vivid and dynamic as they had been on the day they were created. Once he’d read an article about Alzheimer’s patients. There was a woman in the study who had been born and raised in the Northern Water Tribe, but spent virtually all of her adult life in the Earth Kingdom. Her husband had been from the Earth Kingdom. Her children and grandchildren had been born there as well. She’d spent the majority of her existence speaking, reading, and even thinking in Earth Tongue. Yet, when Alzheimer’s took hold of her mind, she could only recall her Water Tongue. She interacted with the sandstone city around her expecting it to have been made of ice and snow. Her grandchildren couldn’t even understand Water Tongue. They’d lost their grandmother to her oldest but paradoxically most powerful memories. Her mind had travelled back in time, and the world around her never got the memo.

Aang considered himself quite lucky. His old body had begun to fail him in a plethora of ways, but his mental faculties were still accounted for. He didn’t consider it particularly interesting to know that Alzheimer’s patients’ memories failed them (in fact, he found it terrifying, and preferred not to think about it when he didn’t have to), but he did find it interesting to know that the oldest memories persisted the longest. He was fortunate enough to have avoided significant memory loss in his long life, but he felt he understood it. In a lot of ways, he felt more like the lonely adolescent he’d been one hundred years ago than the man he’d been only a decade ago. There was something about those early memories that never faded. They define people. 

Like right now, for instance. Everyone wanted to know what Aang thought about the present situation. They wanted a statement, a speech, or something that revealed what Aang made of the events unfolding around him. But as Aang sat down with his pen and paper (he liked writing the old fashioned way. There was something satisfyingly kinetic about pen and paper that typing on a computer could never imitate), his mind was anywhere but the now.

The first time he ever earthbent had been an accident. Most people didn’t believe it when he told them. They contended that air and earth were too different for his first act of earthbending to have happened unintentionally. An old man’s tall tales. Aang couldn’t argue. He was the leading authority on everything there is to know about the four elements and the avatar cycle, but who was he to deny the facts? It just happened. He had a theory about it that he’d never entirely put to words. Something about opposing elements having a unique connection. A shortcut between them, like the hypotenuse between distant angles.

Or maybe it had been facilitated by the cultural hypotenuse that formed when the Earth Kingdom attempted to settle Aang’s homeland. Earth and air were never meant to interact so frequently and so intimately, and yet, because of their colonial outposts, they did exactly that. Aang had been too young to understand the resentment of his elders. There was no outright hostility; that wasn’t the Air Nomad way. But the monks who taught Aang’s classes still muttered under their breath about the cluster of green-roofed houses a few miles away. Aang noticed all that, even if he didn’t fully comprehend what he was seeing.

“They’re not hurting anyone!” Aang had tried to tell Monk Yonten on a particular autumn afternoon.

“Not yet, maybe. But they’ll bring us trouble. Mark my words,” Monk Yonten had replied. Aang didn’t say anything. He couldn’t fathom what kind of trouble the peaceful settlement of farmers and merchants would bring.

Maybe he liked them because he was told not to, or maybe he just liked the respite from being around adults and their heavy thoughts. Either way, the Earth Colony children seemed to reciprocate. None of them carried the grudges of their elders. None of them had the political context to be troubled by their proximity to one another. They just saw each other as eager playmates.

Aang would be lying if he said their foreignness didn’t matter to him. It did matter, and he had to admit he liked it. He’d just been told he was the avatar. Monk Gyatso explained to him why he was being given this soul-crushing information now, instead of at sixteen, when he would have the maturity of a teenager to handle it. Something about living in a war zone. Something about the politics of far-off places Aang had never been. Something about worrying international trends.

All he knew for certain was that he’d been condemned by the announcement. His friends treated him differently now, carefully, like his importance as the avatar was a fragile heirloom they’d been instructed not to play with. Aang tried to tell them that he was still himself, the Aang he’d always been, but they didn’t listen. That’s why he turned his attention to the Earth Colony kids. When they played together, they had no idea that they were in the presence of the newest incarnation of the world’s oldest human spirit. It made Aang feel nice. Normal.

They played Earth Ball together. The others played with actual earthbending, of course, and Aang was able to fake it well enough using air currents and gusts of wind. The Earth Colony kids liked watching his airbending. It fascinated them, and they cheered and hollered when Aang would pull off an especially impressive trick. The games were always good fun, and Aang proved a formidable opponent even without earthbending to assist him. Except for that one time, when he did have earthbending on his side.

The ‘ball,’ which was really just a hunk of jagged earth, was hurtling towards him at an alarming speed. He hadn’t been paying attention; instead he’d been occupied showing his friend Ryong the marble trick he liked so much. When the others finally grabbed his attention, he didn’t have time to formulate a plan. He’d just reacted, and when he did, he’d reacted with earthbending.

After that, the entire community, earth and air alike, knew he was the avatar. Monk Gyatso had scolded him for being so careless with his talents, and then complimented him for being so deft with his bending. The compliment had drifted through Aang’s head as if it were hollow because he’d been too fixated on that first bit. No one had told him to hide being the avatar. Why should he have to conceal his true self from his friends?

The elder monks were nervous. They didn’t like that the colonists knew Aang was the avatar, but when pressed, they couldn’t place exactly why. They just didn’t like it. Monk Yonten had taken to shaking his head and mumbling about a “bad feeling” he would get every time he laid eyes on Aang. Aang thought that was a bit of an overreaction. After all, the colonists hadn’t done anything when they learned of Aang’s true identity, had they? And why would they? The avatar was a champion for all four nations, the great bridge between the spiritual and the material. The avatar didn’t take sides. They had nothing to be afraid of.

It turned out Aang was half right. Unfortunately, the other half was whatever Monk Yonten had foretold. The colonists reacted calmly enough to having the avatar in their midst, but they must’ve relayed the message to their mother country. From there it functioned like a game of telephone. (That would have been a fairly new metaphor in that day, as telephones were only a recent invention). The rest of the world found out, and in the end it was the Fire Nation that brought the trouble Monk Yonten had been dreading.

“This is my fault! They’re attacking us because they know I’m the avatar!” Aang cried when the attack began. At the earliest sign of fireballs soaring through the sky, his first instinct had been to hunt down Monk Gyatso.

“No, Aang. They very well may have attacked us anyway. People want our land. The Earth Kingdom wants it, and the Fire Nation doesn’t want the Earth Kingdom to have it. There’s nothing you could have done differently,” Monk Gyatso explained with an air of tranquility as a bomb shook the building around them from its foundation to its vaulted ceiling. “Here,” he added, placing a cloth bundle in Aang’s arms. When Aang peered inside, he found a thermos, food rations, spark rocks… survival equipment. Monk Gyatso meant for Aang to hide away like a coward. Aang was aghast.

“No! I’m going to stay here and fight! I’m the avatar!” When Aang tried to return the cloth bundle, Monk Gyatso pushed it gently back in his direction.

“Exactly. You’re the avatar, and the world is going to need you far beyond this day. The best thing you can do is find the other children and stay alive.”

“I’m not a child!” Aang protested. Monk Gyatso may as well have not heard him.

A sad smile softened his wrinkled features.

“I’m proud of you, Aang. Whatever happens, remember that.”

Those were the last words Monk Gyatso ever said to him. What Monk Gyatso’s actual last words had been, addressed to anyone, Aang would never know. He reluctantly obeyed the instructions his mentor had given, and hid in a bomb shelter with some boys from his classes and some girls he recognized but didn’t really know. None of them spoke much. They were listening to the ambient noise all too eagerly, trying to ascertain if there would be a home to return to once they eventually emerged from their hiding spot. From time to time the room shook with a ponderous rumble. Dust drifted downward from the cracks in the ceiling that were starting to form. With each blast, Aang wondered if Monk Gyatso and the other adults were still breathing.

The younger children cried. Aang wanted to cry, but found that his chest felt too tight for it. He focused instead of keeping everyone alive and together, performing whatever tasks needed doing with hollow eyes and his mouth stretched into a grim line.

He couldn’t be certain how many days they spent huddled in the windowless room. Even after the rumbling ceased they stayed hidden, just in case their attackers were still out there. None of them knew exactly what the Fire Nation would do if they found them, but no one was particularly keen to find out.

The sunlight blinded them when they issued from the bomb shelter. Once Aang’s eyes adjusted, he immediately wished they hadn’t. The world around them was unrecognizable as the temple Aang had called home. The beautiful architecture Aang remembered was now a junkyard of scorched debris and ash. On the horizon he saw a pile of rubble with emerald colored chunks scattered throughout it. The Fire Nation had destroyed the Earth Colony as well. Aang recalled with reluctant fondness Ryong’s delighted face every time he showed him the marble trick. It didn’t matter if it was the first time or the fiftieth. He wondered if Ryong and his other friends had managed to escape in time. Probably not.

The next few days were spent combing the ruins for survivors. Aang and his little band of young airbenders had not been the only ones who thought to hide away. Sometimes they found individuals, half buried in the rubble and injured. Other times they found groups, cowering in the cupboards and closets that hadn’t been worth the Fire Nation’s time. They found no Earth survivors. Aang had difficulty believing every last one of them had been wiped out; they probably just returned to their kingdom. He couldn’t blame them. Who would want to stay here after what happened? Aang did his best to be a leader. He fed the hungry, tended to the injured, and gave water to the parched. His earthbending was still too weak to bend a shelter, but with the help of the others, he situated the debris into something like a roof over their heads.

The Air Nomads were a pitiful bunch after that day, but they persisted. The handful of survivors was enough to carry on the culture, the language, and the memories. They must have been grateful for Aang taking on a leadership role after the invasion, because they elected him something of a representative after that. Aang was flattered, but privately disgusted. They treated him like a hero when all he’d done was hide away. It was like they’d forgotten it was his fault they were attacked in the first place. They all would have been better off without him, but that was the past. They made clear that they envisioned their future with him at the helm, and he refused to turn his back on people who needed him. Maybe he could atone for his history by being there for them now.

The Air Nomads carried on. They rebuilt, repopulated. They were scant but they were living. All of Fire Lord Sozin’s greed and fury couldn’t take that away. In the subsequent decades Aang became their leader, learning the four elements all the while, and then transitioned into a human symbol of international peace. Aang never advocated for revenge or violence. To him it was natural, logical, even, but the rest of the world never failed to be shocked by his insistence on peaceful problem solving. More death never fixed anything. Aang believed that just as strongly now as he had then.

That’s why, one hundred years after the most traumatic event in Aang’s life, he felt compelled to defend the Fire Nation princess. He hadn’t yet sought permission to file an amicus curiae brief, but he was the avatar. He knew the Court would permit, even welcome his opinion. Aang spent decades waiting and hoping in vain that the Fire Nation would see the fruitlessness of their violent ways, and Princess Azula was undoubtedly part of the problem and not the solution. Still, the Fire Nation under Fire Lord Zuko’s leadership was turning a new leaf, and Aang knew in his heart that killing their former crown princess was counterproductive. Peace depended on moving forward, not dwelling on the injustice of the past. Blood spilled was blood spilled. More of it was never the answer, no matter whose blood it was.

He put pen to paper and let the words flow. He couldn’t be certain his intervention would have any effect on the outcome, but how could he live with himself if he didn’t try?


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azula discovers her final fate
> 
> CW: Mental health, discussion of mental health in a courtroom, the usual Azula stuff, etc...

Ruomei wore black. There was a simple, practical reason for it. Black was smart. Black was elegant. Black always made a good impression. And also, she’d been informed that the jury had returned a verdict, and she knew she’d be sweating buckets.  _ People wear black at funerals _ , her intrusive thoughts taunted. She shoved them aside. Today wouldn’t be a funeral. It would be Azula’s exoneration. Hopefully.  _ But if it does turn out to be a funeral, at least you’re dressed in black. _ Shut up, intrusive thoughts.

The truth was that Ruomei had no idea what the jury decided. That was good, she reminded herself. After all, when Azula’s trial began, she knew exactly what the jury would decide, if they had been allowed to deliberate right at that moment. Azula was as good as dead, back then. But Azula’s trial had been turbulent, eventful, and surprising. A few minds may have been changed by everything that had occurred between then and now.

The first turning point had been Azula’s mental health screens. Azula was diagnosed with a series of disorders, all of which added up to solid ground on which to build an insanity plea. It was excellent news. So excellent, in fact, that Ruomei wept actual tears of joy the second she was alone in her hotel room. She reconfigured her argument to reflect the psychological evaluations, and the rest followed. There was only one problem.

Azula hated being called crazy. Anyone would hate being called crazy, Ruomei supposed. But Azula just acted so damned, well,  _ crazy _ about it. And it wasn’t just the word “crazy,” either. It was anything Azula perceived to mean crazy. Unstable. Neuroatypical. Schizophrenic. Psychotic. Mentally-ill. Ruomei had tried to explain to her that these were conditions that she  _ had _ , not conditions that defined who she was _ . _ She told Azula that there was no shame in being neurologically atypical, that lots of people have the same or similar conditions. Azula wouldn’t listen. After blocking several fire blasts with some well-timed earth shields and then comforting her sobbing client for a half hour, Ruomei realized that even the words “condition” and “disorder” were off-limits. “Competency,” and “insanity” were flirting with disaster.

It wasn’t long before everyone else in the courtroom learned Azula’s peculiar set of rules. They went forward with the insanity plea (it wasn’t like Ruomei had much of a choice), but they had to tiptoe around it. Azula’s “uncommon mind,” they called it. Or else they referred to her “unusual intelligence.” Ruomei didn’t like lying to Azula, but Azula’s capricious behavior cemented it as the only way to move forward. They had to explain their terminology to the jury before Azula was brought out of her holding cell. They justified it as a safety precaution, and it wasn’t even a stretch. Azula could and would spit literal fire if she thought the Court was calling her crazy.

Ruomei felt even less guilty about the ongoing ruse when it began to pay off. Suddenly the narrative she wove for Azula’s case was not only that of a vulnerable young woman manipulated by her power-hungry father, but it was the story of a young woman plagued by mental illness, which her father exploited. Ozai had taken Azula’s “unusual intelligence” and weaponized it against her, Ruomei argued. Azula became a much more believable victim, and all of her outbursts and strange mannerisms suddenly supported Ruomei’s case, instead of sabotaging it. If the jury didn’t believe her, all they had to do was watch Azula for several minutes. She would do something crazy. She always did. It was a better case than Ruomei could have prayed for. She dared wonder if Azula was starting to become sympathetic.

Even better, the prosecution was clearly vexed. What were they going to do, argue that Azula  _ didn’t _ have a string of serious mental disorders? And so long as she wasn’t neurotypical, she couldn’t entirely be held accountable for her actions. The actions Ozai forced her to commit. The prosecution opted to emphasize the gravity of Azula’s crimes, but Ruomei knew it didn’t matter. The question wasn’t  _ what _ Azula had done. It was  _ why. _

The second turning point was so unexpected, Ruomei considered it a gift directly from the spirits themselves, and she wasn’t even religious. Avatar Aang filed an amicus brief on Azula’s behalf. The avatar. An air nomad. The only survivor of the Air Nomad Genocide still alive today. The very same genocide perpetrated by Azula’s great-grandfather. The one that the Fire Nation has yet to officially apologize for, a hundred years after the fact. Yeah, that one.

Why Avatar Aang would take Azula’s side was so mind-boggling that Ruomei didn’t even try to understand it. She simply accepted it for what it was, and it was a turn of events so fortunate that Ruomei couldn’t have crafted a better defense in her dreams. Azula had asked if she could respond to the avatar’s comments on the witness stand. Ruomei told her that if she wanted to live, she’d shut up and smile as the judge read the brief aloud for the Court to hear. Reluctantly, she did as she was told.

The jury was obviously impressed. Who were they to refute the moral authority of the avatar? No one, that’s who. Ruomei swore she saw a vein in her opposing counsel’s forehead bulge even larger.

Even with the series of miracles that had fallen into Ruomei’s lap, she knew she couldn’t underestimate the public’s hatred and mistrust of Azula and her father. Azula still committed the crimes she had; Ruomei never tried to dispute that, and her crimes were… not petty. We’re talking about POW camps. Secret nuclear arms. Implicit international threats. Explicit international threats. Jailing and murder of innocent people. It wasn’t easily overlooked, let alone forgiven.

Now, on the day of the verdict, Ruomei knew that she had done everything in her power to save Azula’s life. She also knew that the black she wore might very well become funeral attire. Only the jury knew, and they filed into the courtroom with stoic, unreadable faces. Even Azula had the situational awareness to be nervous. Her left foot kept twitching. Ruomei placed a hand on her knee under the table.  _ I’m here for you _ , the gesture said wordlessly.  _ Whatever happens, we did our best. _

She meant it. Azula was absolutely maddening to represent, but Ruomei had begun to care for her in the limited, detached sort of way that an attorney cares for her clients. Azula was arrogant, unstable, and denied reality most of the time, but she didn’t deserve to die.

In a rare display of emotional vulnerability, Azula actually placed her hand on top of Ruomei’s and squeezed.

The judge read the verdict. Azula had a lot of counts against her (thirty-nine, to be exact) and the verdict form took the better part of an hour to read. After each one, the judge confirmed with the jury’s foreperson that she’d read the verdict correctly. She had.

Ruomei kept a running tally in her head. Guilty. Guilty. Not guilty. Guilty. It was truly a mixed bag. That was to be expected, as Azula had, rather indisputably, committed most of these. But it wasn’t most that Ruomei was concerned with, it was only the ones that carried automatic death sentences she cared about.

The jury wouldn’t know exactly what fate they were sentencing Azula to. They only knew the charges, not the statutes behind them, or how the sentences were calculated. In fact, they couldn’t know. That was important. They were to make their decisions based on the facts of the past, not the consequences of the future. But Ruomei knew, and she frantically did the math in her mind as the final verdict was laid bare.

…No death sentence. Ruomei ran through her mental list again, just to be sure. Azula would more than likely serve life in prison with no chance of parole, but, unless Ruomei had made a grave error, she would live. The jury had found Azula not guilty of all of the counts that mandated capital punishment.

Azula looked urgently at Ruomei for answers. She, just like the jury, had little concept of what she was hearing. All she knew was that she’d heard quite a few “guiltys” and only a couple “not guiltys.” Red-faced and breathless, Ruomei mouthed, “You’ll live.” Azula squeezed her hand again.

So that was it. Azula was taken back into custody, the jury dispersed, and Ruomei returned to real life. Azula’s brother had flagged her down in the hallway after the trial, craving the same answers Azula had been. He couldn’t make any sense of what had just happened. Ruomei explained, coolly and confidently, that Azula had avoided all of the charges that would automatically result in her death, but they couldn’t know anything for certain until her sentencing. Best to keep Zuko on his toes. He deserved a few sleepless nights after his utter failure to be involved in Azula’s proceedings.

Technically it was true. The judge could still give Azula a death sentence for what she’d done. But the judge wasn’t obligated to do so, not based on the jury’s verdict, and it was pretty unlikely that any self-respecting judge would throw around optional death sentences so carelessly. As far as Ruomei was concerned, Azula was in the clear. It was the best outcome Ruomei could have hoped for.

Several months later, at Azula’s sentencing, Ruomei was proved right. A crowd had gathered for the occasion, just as they had for the trial. There was a cluster of reporters, Zuko and his girlfriend, and even a few former jurors. The jurors had been released from their duty, but after spending so much time and energy on the case, many felt invested in the outcome.

Azula was given life, no chance of parole, just as Ruomei predicted. Given the circumstances, it was the best-case scenario. But then the judge added a caveat Ruomei hadn’t foreseen. Azula would serve her time in a maximum-security facility  _ in her native homeland _ . The judge granted her brother the power to select the facility himself. In a sad, sick sense, Azula was going home.

In the gallery, Zuko breathed an audible sigh of relief, his eyes tilted toward the heavens.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean Azula and Zuko haven't even had a real conversation until now??
> 
> See end notes for important announcement.

Life. Azula had been given  _ life _ . She hated that phrase, and the way everyone said it, like it was a gift for which she ought to be grateful. Her life wasn’t chattel. It wasn’t a prize for which others competed. Furthermore, the judge hadn’t given her life. She already had life. She had a heart that beat, lungs that drew in breath, and royal blood coursing through her veins. She didn’t need life bestowed on her all over again. If anything, the judge had taken her life. At least, that’s how she saw it. Everyone seemed so obsessed with the alternative. But if her life was going to be spent inside four concrete walls, Azula didn’t see much difference. 

She was put on an airplane. She supposed she must’ve been on an airplane at least once before, when she was ripped from her homeland and transported to the Earth Kingdom all that time ago, but she had no memory of it. Perhaps they’d sedated her. It made sense, because if she had been awake, she would have fought them. 

But now there was no reason to fight. She was being taken home, sort of. Closer to home than she’d been ever since her life had turned upside down. There would be time to strain against her confinement later. Right now she had every reason to accept a free ride to the Fire Nation, or at the very least, no reason to reject it. She was handcuffed at the wrists and ankles and taken to a locked cabin away from the pilot. Armed guards were never far off. At least there was a window. Azula had never seen the Earth from such a height before. It might’ve been pretty, if she thought she’d ever be allowed to roam it freely. 

She tried to remind herself that the flight didn’t matter. Prison was prison. She’d never see the palace again, or her father. She’d begun to believe that he really had died. If he were out there somewhere, anywhere, surely he wouldn’t have let her endure what she had. He would’ve intervened. He would’ve come for her. In the end, the only person who came for her was Ruomei. Yes, Ruomei was condescending, disrespectful, and had a baffling degree of faith in the international justice system. There were times Azula wanted to smack that haughty smirk off her crimson lips. There were times she’s tried to do exactly that. But no matter how rude or combative Azula had been, Ruomei came back. She returned, time and time again, when no one else, not even her own family, could be bothered. No one had ever fought for her like Ruomei had. She’d probably never see Ruomei again, either. Not now that the trial was over. Azula tried not to let it get to her. She’d never needed anyone before. She wouldn’t start now. She closed her eyes, allowing the high-pitched whine of the airplane to drone over her thoughts. 

As the plane neared its destination, Azula recognized the Caldera. She wasn’t sure if she would from this unfamiliar angle, yet there it was. There was the palace, spectacular and imposing even from its rooftops, and around it lay the city, blocked out in interlinking geometric shapes. Each plot of land was like a puzzle piece. The whole thing lay cradled in the embrace of the dormant volcano that surrounded it.

To see it was one thing, but she hadn’t been prepared for the smell. When the stale cabin air was released, Azula’s senses were bombarded with the humid, tropical scent of her home. Why did the smell of it wield so much more power than the sight? She inhaled and she was home. She was ten years old again, doing cartwheels in the palace courtyard. There was no glory in her homecoming, but she couldn’t ignore that it was  _ a _ homecoming, albeit a shameful one. Her senses simply wouldn’t let her. 

Before long, the smells changed, evocative of the entire life she’d lived in the time since she’d been gone. Wet concrete. Stale bread. Chemical cleaners. Prison sewers. She’d been to Fire Nation prisons before. She’d accompany her father when he confronted one of his political opponents. On those occasions she’d been a visitor, and an esteemed one at that. Never had she been inside one of their own prisons in her current capacity. 

The prison wasn’t actually in the Caldera. Rather, it was on the outskirts, far enough away that the Calderan people could go about their daily business with their minds at ease. Not that anyone ever escaped these prisons. They were impenetrable fortresses. No one could pass in or out without the proper clearance. She and her father had made sure of that. She’d been eager to help him, then. She’d wanted to ensure that the traitors and war prisoners lived out their bleak lives in the most unforgiving environment imaginable. Well, now the joke was on her, wasn’t it? Azula scowled. She never had much patience for jokes. 

As she was escorted to her cell, who should’ve been waiting outside for her but her dear brother? She’d expected him to come, eventually. That still didn’t mean she wanted to see him. 

Azula was placed in proper restraints and then left to speak with Zuko in private. It might’ve been an intimate family reunion, were it not for the iron bars that separated them. 

“Zuzu.” 

He almost smiled. “I never thought I’d be relieved to hear that loathsome childhood nickname again.” 

Azula snorted. “I’m surprised you remember it. I’m surprised you remember your childhood at all, or that you even remember me.” 

“Azula…” 

“He’s really dead, isn’t he? It’s the only explanation. Why else would I be condemned to rot in here while you sit on his throne and wear his crown?” 

Zuko looked down at his patent leather shoes. He stood taller than she did, but still he seemed small and uncertain, like he had all his life. 

“He’s dead. At first I didn’t want to believe it either.” 

“Oh, didn’t you?” Azula barked. 

“No! I didn’t!” He stared at her with pleading eyes. “I didn’t ask for any of this to happen, you know. I didn’t want him to die.” 

Azula crossed her arms. “But you can’t deny that it benefitted you,” She sneered. 

“In some ways,” he admitted after a few beats of silence. “Other ways not.” 

When Azula made no reply, Zuko heaved a sigh and spoke again. 

“At least you’re home now. And this facility? It’s actually pretty nice. I know it probably doesn’t seem that way now, but it has courtyards and a sports center, and there are staff who can assist you if you want to take a walk around the grounds. Plus, you’ll meet with a counsellor every week who can help you — ”

“I don’t want to talk to a fucking counsellor, Zuko.” Azula spotted a loose chunk of concrete and gave it a sharp kick. 

“I’m just trying to make the best of this for you, Azula,” he answered. He spoke in a voice that was low and soft, but, dejected as it sounded, there was some mettle in it that never used to be there before. 

“Is that what you want?” Azula cackled. “You want me to thank you?” 

“No!” 

“I’m in prison! I’ve been in prison for the past… I don’t even know how long it’s been! Those earthbenders almost killed me, Zuko, and you let them get away with it! They killed our father! You should have been furious! You should have fought tooth and nail for our family but you didn’t. They handed you a shiny crown, and like a coward, you took it. Now you want me to thank you, because you put me in a facility with a courtyard?” Unbelievable. 

“Azula, I — ”

“You don’t even miss him, do you? You don’t care that he’s gone. You didn’t even like him.” 

Zuko picked his words carefully, but Azula didn’t really care which words he picked. The fact that he hadn’t denied it immediately told her everything she needed to know. 

“He abused me. It was hard to love someone who so clearly never wanted me. I think, if you’re being honest with yourself, you’d realize he kind of abused you too.” 

“He didn’t!” 

“Fine,” he waved a dismissive hand. “But there’s no disputing that he hurt me. He gave me this scar. He locked me away —! ”

“Then you should know what it feels like!” Azula roared. 

She’d stunned him, even if only for a few seconds. She felt triumphant during the short ringing silence that followed. 

“There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing I could’ve done back then, either. I don’t miss Father. You’re right. But I didn’t want him to die,” he said finally. 

“You’re a coward,” she spat. “The fire lordship is an omnipotent weapon in the right hands.” 

“I know. That’s the problem. I don’t expect you to approve of, or even understand my leadership.” 

Ha. “What leadership?” 

In the old days, that would have irked him. He would have furrowed his brow as her words dug deeper under his skin. The new Zuko, apparently, wasn’t so easily rattled. 

“I haven’t been the best brother. I should have visited you. I should have helped you get a lawyer. But even then, I couldn’t have fixed this for you. I wish you’d take some responsibility for getting yourself in here.” 

“Getting  _ myself _ in here? The only reason you’re not in here with me is because Father gave up on you! Be honest with yourself. If Father had let you, wouldn’t you have done everything I did?”

“Goodbye, Azula. I’ll visit you again soon. I’m going to start making things right.” 

“You’re not better than me!” She screamed at his retreating form. She continued to scream even when he had walked away. “You can’t make things right! Not ever!”

When Zuko had gone, Azula was more alone than she’d ever been. Ozai wasn’t coming. Neither was Ruomei. There was no upcoming trial to break up her endless days, or to remind people on the outside that she still existed. There was only her, in her little concrete box, where she’d live out the rest of life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I’m going to have to go on hiatus again. I feel a bit better about it this time around than last. Last time was an unexpected delay that I really couldn’t plan around. This time the story is in a place that I feel better about temporarily leaving. It’s kind of the end of “season 1” if you will. 
> 
> As always, thank you all for being the lovely readers that you are. I don't know exactly when I will be back, but trust that I will have some good content for you when I do! <3


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